


Sins of the Flesh

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Series: Carnal Sins [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Dirty Talk, F/M, Father!Gold, Golden Lace, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Priest Kink, Rumbelle - Freeform, Sacrilege, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, because there is a plot in there, but also a lot of smut, not technically pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18 year old Catholic schoolgirl Lacey likes to play the temptress. Father Gold is a man of the cloth, but he's still only a man...Their cat and mouse game takes an unexpected turn as the curse starts to crumble around them...</p>
<p>*Now with cover art!</p>
<p> <a href="http://theespensonawards.tumblr.com/winners">2016 Espenson Award</a> winner for Best Golden Lace!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Apple

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this Verse, feel free to leave me a Prompt in the Comments!
> 
> Or you can message me on Tumblr: thescholarlystrumpet
> 
> As of now (4/20/15) Prompts will likely get filled in an aside rather than the main story.

 

“That Lacey French is a bad apple.” The Mother Superior scowled, swiping uselessly at the 3 foot penis someone had drawn on the chalkboard. Apparently, the unknown artist must have used permanent marker.

Father Gold hid a smirk behind one hand. “Now, now, Mother. There is no way of telling this is her handiwork. From what I hear, she’s certainly not the only girl in your class who would have the, ahem, anatomical knowledge.”

The Reverend Mother’s scowl deepened as she glared at him. “What do you want, Father?” She spat the title at him disdainfully.

He gave her the patented half smirk, shark-like with just a glint of his gold tooth.

Father Gold had never pretended to be a good man, or even a good priest. He’d been living in the collar so long, he could no longer remember why he’d put it on in the first place.  The important part was that people feared him. Respected him. Even the Mother Superior had to feign reverence, in public. He outranked her in their community.

He twirled his cane idly. “I have reason to believe a small group of my boys are planning to raid the girls’ dormitory tonight or tomorrow night. I have already disciplined the ringleaders but I cannot guarantee the plans have been thoroughly sabotaged. I thought it was only right to give you fair warning. So you can protect the virtue of your girls… such as it is.”

The Mother heaved a sigh. “Let me guess, it was one of the Shue boys?”

Gold shrugged. He opened his mouth to reply but was drowned out by the school bell. A gaggle of girls in plaid skirts and button-down white shirts flooded into the room. Their high pitched excitement grated on him. He was mollified when they seemed to quietly shrink back as they noticed him in their classroom. A few of them must have noticed the board, but their giggles were stifled or shushed by classmates.

His eyes swept over the familiar faces, almost unconsciously searching her out. The biggest thorn in Mother Superior’s side, Lacey French. Irritating the Mother Superior as effectively as she did had unwittingly earned her Father Gold’s appreciation. The way she filled out her pathetically undersized excuse for a uniform earned her a great deal more than appreciation.

Since the rebellious teenager and her father had come to town, Gold had developed a less than healthy interest in her. Just barely 18, she was a tried and true wild child. She smoked, drank, swore like a sailor, and made eyes at men twice her age. She had spent more than one night in a jail cell after being caught with fake IDs. Her confessions were filthy –  not so much in action, but the girl had an imagination that would make a porn star blush… More than once, Father Gold had found himself tenting his trousers before she was even halfway through the litany of her sins.

Later, in his room, he would take himself in hand, pretending it was her greedy mouth, or wet, willing cunt. It never took more than a few strokes to bring himself off, but it only left him wanting more.

It certainly didn’t help that she seemed to have taken a shine to Father Gold, as well. She sought him out after services, insisting that he was the only one she could talk to about anything in this “one horse town.” She was surprisingly clever. She made astute observations about the other townsfolk and she laughed at his jokes. He had no doubt she was merely toying with him, but as long as she brought those shapely legs and azure eyes, he found he had no choice but to play along.

He started to leave the classroom, stopping in the doorway to bid the Mother and her students a good day. As he turned, something solid bumped against his back.

“Oof. Way to be a fire hazard, mate.”

He swiveled back around to find himself face to face with the object of his darkest fantasies.

“Christ!” Lacey exclaimed, wide-eyed. “I mean…. Sorry, Father.” She gave an unapologetic smirk.

His eyes narrowed, but a smile tugged at his lips. He resisted the urge to drop his gaze to where he knew her shirt would be unbuttoned obscenely low. “It’s no matter. Get to class, Lacey.”

“Yes, Father.” Lacey purred. She leaned into him as she passed, her breasts brushing against his forearm. Luckily, her back was to the class and Mother Superior was turned away, still trying to cover the chalkboard.  There was no way she could have passed that off as anything but deliberate. His cock twitched appreciatively.

Inhaling deeply, he strode out of the school building. Yes, that Lacey French was a bad apple. And Gold was just about desperate for a bite.


	2. Lead Me Not

The chapel was abandoned. Services had ended and the students had dutifully gone on to bible study. All but Lacey, that is. She often played hooky on Sundays but when she did show up, she would only take bible study from the Father, personally. At first he had protested, but she turned out to be quite the closet academic. Her penchant for exploring the nature of sin was intriguing. More than once she had managed to lure him into a rather spectacular Theological argument. Such a sharp mind in such a nubile body was more temptation than a simple sinner like Gold should be expected to bear.

“Scoot.” Lacey hip-checked him as she slid into the pew.

He was stunned into compliance and immediately regretted it. “Manners, Miss French.” He chided, turning slightly to look down his nose at the defiant teen.

She raised an eyebrow and snapped her gum at him but said nothing. Toying with him, as she usually did, she settled in as close as she could get without actually touching him.

Today he was in no mood to debate with her, let alone dance to her tune. His restless sleep had been plagued with Lacey-shaped dreams. He awoke panting with unquenched need. Irritable that the little chit could be so smug as he churned in agony, he sniffed haughtily and forced himself to look away. “We’ll begin in silent prayer.”

He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing her effect on him. His traitorous eyes, however, had other ideas. They slid sidelong and back several times, drinking in her lithe form. She was flipping absentmindedly through a heavy bible. Her school blouse hung open to reveal a dark, fitted tank top with the name of what he assumed was a band. Her skirt was rolled at the top and hiked to about mid-thigh – which was halfway to decent, for Lacey. There was still a generous enough amount of leg on display to make little beads of sweat appear on his forehead. With an impatient sigh, her head lolled back against the rounded edge of the pew. Her back arched with the motion, breasts pushed forward. Her puckered nipples stood out prominently against the thin fabric of her top. He swore inwardly and adjusted the bible to cover his lap.

He knew he ought to be engaging her in some pretense of discussion, but the words died on his lips. So, he prolonged the silent prayer time, hoping she would get bored enough to simply leave. Father Gold was a ruthless, opportunistic manipulator. He could pierce through even the thickest armor of any Storybrooke inhabitant. But right now, he couldn’t seem to make conversation with Lacey Fucking French. Even the cloying scent of her strawberry bubblegum sent a frisson of excitement straight to his cock.

He imagined himself running one hand up the length of her leg, skimming the edge of her skirt. His eye would meet hers and she would raise that eyebrow again, in half-mocking challenge, but she too would be starting to sweat. He would push her skirt aside to find her bare and dripping, knickers probably abandoned before she walked in. She would have planned it that way.

“Your adherence to the dress code is appalling, Miss French.” He would say, releasing her rucked up skirt to lightly stroke the mound of her pubis. 

In the fantasy, she chuckled darkly and grasped his questing hand. The tip of the middle finger she slid slowly between her lips, eyes never leaving his. Her tongue swirled around the digit and his cock surged against his fly. She gave the same treatment to the forefinger and he groaned.  Her eyes still laughed but the amusement was clouded with a feral desire.

She guided his dampened fingers to her folds, canting her hips to grant him better access. She was liquid fire and trembled beneath his touch…

“Weekly tithing for your thoughts,  _Father_.”

Jolted from his fantasy, Father Gold gulped in too much air and found himself coughing uncontrollably. Lacey pounded him on the back as he leaned forward, the bible slipping from his grasp.

“Father?” There was genuine concern in her voice this time.  Her hands tugged gently at his shoulders, but Gold stayed doubled over to maintain what was left of his dignity. With her so close, his erection had not even flagged.

“Fine. Fine, Lacey.” He choked out, gruffly. It hurt to talk but he needed her gone. And now. “Bible study is over for today. Tell Mother Superior you get full marks.”

She made a joyful little noise and vaulted herself from the pew. From his peripheral perspective, he saw her sweep her bookbag off of the floor and watched her feet begin to retreat. He straightened out slowly, still breathing heavily. His stubbornly persistent arousal throbbed and he palmed himself through his trousers to relieve some pressure.

“God is watching, Father.” Her breath was hot in his ear. The fact he hadn’t heard her sneak up behind him was only further testament to his unraveled state.

He froze, a proverbial deer in the headlights. Some dark part of him thrilled at the shame of being caught.  “So, it would seem, are you, Miss French.” He finally managed.

She giggled, sending sparks of pleasure shooting down his spine. “The difference is, God probably doesn’t like what he sees nearly as much.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek and then she was gone.

He didn’t need to turn and check. Her absence was tangible. Gritting his teeth, he stroked himself roughly through the fabric. It didn’t take long before he finished with a strangled cry that echoed in the empty chapel.

Her kiss still burning on his cheek, Father Gold dropped his head to his hands. What the fuck was he getting himself into?

 


	3. He Will Exalt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Prompt from LicieOIC: Lacey goes to confession when she knows Gold is scheduled to be there and deliberately confesses to lustful thoughts, describing them in excruciating detail, working him up, then she pauses and asks in a low, knowing voice, "Are you touching yourself, Father?"  
> **  
> I took a few liberties with the wording... but I hope you like it!!

Confession used to be Father Gold’s favorite time of the week. Listening to every dirty little secret this small town could offer up was the only time he felt less of an outsider. The folks of Storybrooke held hearts rife with lust and avarice behind those bland, doleful faces. It had warmed him to his very cockles. Over time, however, the confessions grew as dull and monotonous as anything else in their unchanging town. Somewhere along the line, he ceased to derive satisfaction from hearing about petty concerns and affairs. He was restless and agitated, giving out far more Hail Mary’s than was strictly necessary, the first time Lacey entered his confessional.

She had taken his world and turned it upside down with a salacious murmured fantasy. He knew it was all a game. He knew he ought to call a halt before things got out of hand – no pun intended. Yet, he just couldn’t tear himself away. By the time he realized the danger she represented (to his sanity, his self-control, not to mention his reputation), he was too far enmeshed to care.

Since not every student at the Mother of Mercy High School was Catholic, the bible classes were mostly nondenominational. Confession was not mandatory, so Lacey would often skip it for weeks at a time. The week following their encounter in the chapel, he was holding his breath, with equal parts fear and anticipation, to see if she would appear.

She did not come to services or to bible study afterward. His heart sank as the last confessor shuffled out and no sign of her Australian lilt had reached his ears. He rose from his seat to exit when the door on the other side opened and then slammed shut.

He paused and listened.  Lacey’s familiar perfume, mouthwatering and just a little spicy, wafted through the grate just as her heard her breathless giggle.

“Are you here for confession… my child?” He ventured, heart rising into his throat.

She giggled again and this time he caught a hint of something strong and tonic… vodka perhaps?

“Did you miss me today, Father?”

He said nothing.

“I promise I’ll come back to bible study next week if you tell me that you missed me.” Her hand pressed against the grate, little divots of flesh peeping through at him. He resisted the urge to press his lips to them. She sighed and removed her hand. “You didn’t miss me at all, did you? Too busy with all those other sinners to even spare me a thought. That’s ok, I didn’t think of you either. Ruby and I stole a bottle of vodka from her granny’s kitchen. We’ve been hanging out in the park all day, sunning ourselves. I mean this town only gets, like, three weeks of nice weather. It’d be a shame to have to stay inside all cloistered up. Like you do. I bet it’s been stuffy and boring in here, all day.”

He heard her shifting in her seat and glanced through the grate. She was leaning back as far as the enclosed space would allow, propping her feet on the kneeler, her image made gauzy and ethereal by the patterned metal and the low light. Her scant sundress fell high on her sun warmed thighs. He wished it would rise just a little more, give his hungry eyes the feast they craved.

She smiled enigmatically, toying with the hem of her dress as though she could read his thoughts. “You should have come to the park with us, Father. There were plenty of pretty girls out sunbathing in bikinis. I know you like to watch us.” She looked up and met his gaze directly, challenging him to disagree.

He slammed himself backwards in his chair, choking on his breath, chased by a tinkle of her teasing laughter. He grit his teeth, flushing with dismay. Was that what she thought of him, then? He may be a lecherous old man, but he was _her_ lecherous old man. Of every girl in town, Gold only had eyes for Lacey French. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much that she know.

“No.” He managed at last. “I… don’t… It’s only…Only you.” He admitted lamely, dignity hanging by a thread.

She inhaled sharply and fell silent a moment. Finally, her lips smacked together obscenely. “I bet you say that to all the girls who get you hard.”

He shook his head vehemently and repeated. “Only you.” What else could he say? _Lacey, please believe me? A whole town full of nubile flesh and you are the only one I want. The only one who fills my dreams. The only one who could make me beg._

 “Okay. Say, I believe you.” She shifted closer to the window. “Or maybe I just want to believe you. Doesn’t matter. It amounts to the same thing.” Her voice pitched lower. “Because I like it.”

He groaned. He’d been half hard since that first whiff of perfume, by now he was rigid and straining against his zipper. It should have been shameful, letting this pubescent siren run rampant on his hormones. But all he felt was the thrill of having her near, hearing her say she liked his eyes on her.

She continued, her usually girlish tones dropping to a throaty purr. “I like thinking about you watching me. I can feel your gaze like a caress on my skin. I can feel you wanting me, wanting to touch my breasts, feel my nipples harden in your hands. I know you want pull up my dress and push aside my panties, feel how I’ve drenched through them already. I’d be dripping wet and begging you for more, wouldn’t I? Or what if you were to use your mouth on me, make me cry out. I’m not quiet, Father. But you probably already thought of that, didn’t you?”

He panted, unable to restrain his hips from thrusting against the air. His cock was throbbing, desperate for friction. “Lacey…” The name was perversely reverent on his lips.

“Would you want me to say your name? To moan it as you slip inside me? Would you let me ride you, right here in the confessional booth? Sliding up and down your length, teasing you before letting you plunge back in…” Lacey gave a shuddering gasp. “Oh, God… Father… touch yourself for me… please?”

He nearly sobbed with need, his hands frantically ripping at his belt and fly. It didn’t matter where they were right now, or who else might be walking right past. He fisted his cock with abandon, blindly seeking release.

“Father… are you close?” If Lacey’s heavy breathing was any indication, she was nearly as undone as he felt. “Tell me… tell me when you come?”

That did it. “Fuck!” He stifled the expletive with one hand as he exploded in the other. Shaking and sticky, he slumped against the back wall of his cubby.

Lacey’s forehead hit the grate as she made a muffled, high pitched noise. She took several breaths and began to giggle again. “Well, bless me, Father. For I have sinned.”

He gave a snort of laughter despite himself. “We are… all sinners in this world.”

“Hmm.” She sounded thoughtful. “I guess some of us are just better at it than others.” She pressed a kiss to the grate and before he could say another word, she had taken off.

Gold glanced down at the mess in his lap. “Well, fuck.”


	4. Against the Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild plot point appears! More smut will be forthcoming!

“You’re late.” Father Gold observed, without looking up from his open bible. He hadn’t read a word of it for several minutes, but he couldn’t let her know he was anxiously anticipating her arrival.

“Got tied up.”

He didn’t want to take the bait, but she clearly expected it. He raised an eyebrow. “Literally or figuratively?”

She gave a throaty laugh and shrugged. “Little of column A…”

He glanced down at her wrists. “I don’t see any marks. They must not have been trying very hard.”

Her cheeks colored and he smugly counted it as a point scored for himself. Until she replied, nonchalantly, “The marks aren’t where you can see them.”

The air seemed to desert his lungs. He opened his mouth and closed it again, soundlessly. His throat worked but coherent speech seemed a little too difficult for the moment. The implication made his pants tighter, to be certain. Yet the idea of anyone but him marking her skin tempered arousal with a stifling wave of jealousy. The worst of it was the mischievous satisfaction in her gaze.

Feeling peevish and off kilter, he rose from the pew and began to walk away. The hand gripping his cane was white knuckled, but steady. “No excuse for being late.”

Lacey gave him an exaggerated eye roll. “So, no bible study this week? If that’s your idea of punishment, I could just stop showing up altogether.”

His mouth twisted in a knowing smirk. “Empty threat, sweetheart. I know how much you enjoy tormenting this old man.” He brushed past her in the narrow aisle.

“Father…”

He ignored her. She knew how to lay a trap but would she be willing to give chase if he refused to step into it?

 She huffed impatiently as he continued ambling away at a measured pace. “You’re not that old.” A small hand landed on his upper arm, halting him in his tracks. Lacey sidled closer. “You’re just… experienced.” She purred into his ear.

He let his eyes fall shut and bit back a groan. What did this girl really think of him? This increasingly dangerous game of theirs was the most exciting thing he had done in… well… possibly ever.

“Experienced?” He scoffed, reflecting bitterly on the waste his life had become. “Child, I have been in the cloth longer than you’ve been on this earth. You probably experience more in a weekend than I have in a decade.” He turned his head to look at her, so close he could see where her mascara had smudged under one eye. “What kind of experience do you think I have that you don’t?”

“Ecclesiastical?” She grinned impishly.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I am also well versed in Sarcasm, but you don’t seem to need lessons in that.”

Lacey laughed. “Ya’ think?”

The smile broke through at last and he chuckled.

“You weren’t always a priest.” Lacey prodded.

“No.”

“What were you like before?” She tilted her head to the side, studying him.

“Younger.”

Lacey made a frustrated sound. “That’s not much of an answer.”

“It’s not much of a story.”

He was lying, of course. There was always a story. He wished he knew exactly what it was. He wished he could remember exactly how he had ended up in Storybrooke, choked by vows he could barely recall making.

They fell into silence, her hand still lightly gripping his arm, pale against his black jacket. He noticed her gaze dropping to his lips as she, unconsciously, ran her tongue along her own. Since her last confession, Gold had begun to entertain the notion that perhaps the attraction he felt was not entirely one-sided. It was dizzying to think that this delectable girl could possibly feel even a modicum of what he felt for her. Then again, a shared wank in the confessional did not necessarily constitute mutual desire. It had to be the attention that she was enjoying so much. It couldn’t be his company, he told himself resolutely. And yet…

The air between them grew thicker and he swallowed hard. The hand not gripping his cane slowly rose to the cheek of her upturned face. Her skin was soft beneath his roughened fingertips. He traced the curve of one cheek and her eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. Her petal pink lips trembled slightly and some detached part of his mind noted that she had forgone her cherry lipstick. He decided he liked the natural color of her lips better without the sticky gloss.

Gold was breathing shallowly, afraid to break whatever spell seemed to hold them entranced. He found himself leaning forward, toward her inviting lips. Lacey’s mouth fell open as she backed away, quickly.

“I… uh… my dad needs help in the shop. So… I’ve got to… Goodbye, Gold!” Her cheeks flaming bright pink, Lacey turned and fled like the hounds of Hell were nipping at her stiletto heels.

Father Gold gaped in her wake, feeling like a dreamer shaken abruptly awake. He collapsed heavily into a nearby pew.

He was heartily confused by her reaction, ashamed of his own lack of restraint, and disappointed at the abruptness of her departure. Mostly, he felt the way he often did after an encounter with Lacey – frustrated, flustered, and inexplicably sad.


	5. A Delight to the Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lacey is back and playing to win. But Father Gold is ready to hold his own.

On Monday, Gold noted that Lacey was absent during his daily bible class with the 12th year students. She never missed a class with him. Had he scared her off? Over the years, Gold had become a connoisseur in the art of striking fear. Frightened people never looked at him the way that Lacey French had just before taking off.

Perhaps it _was_ just a game and she didn’t like losing the upper hand.

Lacey liked to be in charge; that much was obvious. She liked teasing him just to his breaking point without ever getting her hands dirty. Taking back just that little bit of power, leaning in for the kiss that was always on her lips but never fully offered, it must have thrown her off balance.

A flicker of doubt wavered at the back of his mind. For all Lacey’s posturing and talk of seduction, he had never actually seen her with a boy. She was often in the company of Ruby and a few other college aged girls, but he was fairly certain her tastes lay toward mainly the male persuasion. So, the question remained – how much of it was really just a show?

He was still musing over this by Tuesday’s class. When he remembered to look up, he was pleased to find Lacey sitting a few rows back. She met his gaze and held it deliberately before turning away with feigned disinterest.

Well, it was something, anyway.

He began his lecture, fighting to keep his gaze neutral, when all it wanted was to drink her in. He was doing quite well until she started shifting in her seat. The movement drew his attention, as he was certain was the intention. Pretending to ignore her, he finished passing out the worksheet on the previous night’s reading and slid behind his desk, pretending to read.

From that vantage point, he observed her from beneath his lashes. She continued to adjust her posture, rolling her shoulders, stretching her arms above her head. Her classmates didn’t seem to notice. It was their last period and everyone was restless. Finally, he saw one of her hands leave her desktop and creep up her thigh, disappearing beneath the brief hem of her shortened skirt. There it remained, making subtle but distinct movements. He inhaled sharply but inaudibly at the implication and ventured a glance at her face.

Her expression made no secret of what she was doing, eyes hooded, lips parted and glistening. He nearly groaned aloud as he sprang fully to attention beneath his own desk. Luckily the wood paneling hid him from view. He cupped himself to relieve the pressure but there was no way he could get away with taking himself in hand until the students had left. She was fully aware of his discomfort, enjoying it thoroughly, if that infuriating little smirk was any indication.

A boy named Georgie began to glance over at her with some interest.

“Eyes on your own paper!” Gold barked with, perhaps, a touch more vehemence than was necessary.

Lacey bit her lip, no doubt to hold in a laugh, and shifted in her seat again. Her skirt hiked up just enough for him to catch the movement of her fingers. No knickers, just as he had imagined. He found himself counting the seconds until the end of class.

The game was definitely back on. Some part of him had to applaud her for finding her own way to up the ante. But she wasn’t going to get away with it, this time. If he had to ache like this or face being humiliated, he would make sure she got hers. Revenge would be sweet and satisfying – for both of them, if he played his cards right. He took a deep breath, willing his body to be still, be patient.

At long last, the bell rang and students sprang to their feet in a flurry of activity.

“Leave your worksheets on my desk as you go. Any unfinished questions will be marked as incorrect.”

Students filed past, depositing the papers in a pile. Lacey lingered over her book bag, fidgeting with a keychain. At the end of the line, she handed hers directly to him.

“Miss French. A moment.”

“Yeah? What?” She cocked her head to the side, the picture of teenage rebellion.

“It’s ‘Yes, Father Gold’ and you know perfectly well why I asked you to stay” He held up her worksheet. Not a single question had been answered. She had barely taken the time to scrawl her name at the top.

 “Yes, Father Gold.” She parroted, rolling her eyes. “And so what? It was a stupid worksheet. No one cares about that stuff anyway.”

Making a mental note that his libido was back in check, he rose and came around to the other side of his desk. “That is enough of your lip, young lady! Detention in the rectory for you. Now.” They were creating quite a scene. Students lingered nearby, staring indiscreetly. Gold turned to them. “Was I talking to any of you lot? Miss French’s poor attitude is not a spectator sport. Off with you!” They fled like startled rabbits. He faced Lacey once more, allowing his hunger to reflect in his eyes now that they were alone.

She was worrying her lower lip, but met his gaze steadily, a stubborn thrust to her chin. “Detention?” She raised one brow. “Will you have me on my hands and knees… scrubbing floors?”

He lingered on that mental image before continuing.  “Perhaps some other time. For now, I was thinking of something a little more… old fashioned. Meet me in the rectory in 10 minutes.” He glanced pointedly at her skirt, his hands itching to pull it from her body. “Just as you are.”

“Yes, Father Gold.” She breathed. 


	6. Also Shall Ye Reap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LilDove prompted spanking!  
> I've never written it before but I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out :-)

Gold’s palms were sweating as he made his way to the rectory. If Lacey was going to pull the plug again, now would be the time for her to do so. She might have shied away from crossing one line but she had come back for more all on her own.  Still, he wouldn’t hold her to this, if she didn’t want it as much as he did.

There was now no denying this was real, the heat between them was tangible. It practically threatened to consume the classroom. How the other students managed to remain oblivious, he would never know, but he was grateful for small miracles.

He reached the solid oak door feeling like a bundle of raw nerves. Would she be on the other side? Would she be willing to hand over the reins for a little while? He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Relief flooded him as he took in her slender figure, leaning one hip against a bookcase. She was immersed in some heavy tome or another. For a moment he was distracted by the odd notion that she seemed to be able to read Latin. Then he returned to the purpose at hand.

He let the door close heavily behind him and locked it.

Lacey looked up, studiously nonchalant. “You took your time, Father.”

His mouth twisted and he indicated the cane. “I wasn’t built for speed…” He closed the distance between them in measured strides. She wasn’t in heels today, so she had to tilt her head slightly to hold his gaze. “But I can guarantee endurance.” He finished with a wicked grin. She answered with her own. Moving even closer, he plucked the book from her hands and laid it on an empty shelf. With his free hand, he gripped her waist and pulled her flush against him.

“You have been a very sinful, naughty girl, Miss French. And very disruptive to my class.” He murmured in her ear, her auburn curls tickling his face.

She arched against him. “And what will happen to me, Father? Will God punish me for my wicked ways?”

“God’s probably busy. I’d rather take matters into my own hands.” He snaked a hand down to firmly grasp her arse, barely covered as it was by her skirt.

She moved one thigh between his legs, pressing firmly against his growing hardness. “Hmm… What will you do to me, Father?”

With a feral growl, he tore himself away long enough to pull her over to a nearby sofa. It was small and tattered but perfect for his purpose. He deposited himself on it, letting his cane clatter to the floor.

There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as Lacey lingered by the side of the sofa. Gold felt himself falter, slipping out of the façade and gently taking her hand. “Lacey?”

Her lower lip trembled for just a second, almost imperceptibly. Then, her gaze sharpened and she gave him a cocky grin. “You really think you can make a girl like me repent?”

Gold studied her for any further signs of uncertainty. She huffed impatiently and made to pull away, so he tightened his grip on her hand, slipping back into his Authoritarian role. “I won’t just make you repent, Miss French. I will make you beg for mercy.” He threatened silkily, noting with pleasure the heat that rose in her cheeks.

“Try me” she challenged.

It was all the invitation he needed. He pulled her roughly across his lap, holding her in place with one forearm. His other hand pulled the tiny skirt above her waist, revealing perfect twin globes, tantalizingly bare at last. He stroked lightly over the soft skin, wordless with awe at his good fortune.

Lacey began to struggle and he landed a sharp slap on the right cheek. She gasped and stilled. He slapped the left cheek with equal vigor and she released a muffled whimper. He repeated the motion on both sides then smoothed his hand over the reddening flesh. Lacey released a shuddering breath as his questing hand neared the cleft. She squirmed against him, the friction delicious against his cock, which was already completely hard and weeping.

He gave himself a moment to enjoy the sensation before taking her to task with a series of quick smacks, aimed at the lushest parts of her lovely bottom. He finished with another flick of his fingers just between her legs. It was a calculated tease, just enough to provoke a response without providing any real stimulation. His fingers came away slick. She moaned and writhed against the arm that held her solidly to him.

“Had enough, Miss French?”

She exhaled loudly but said nothing.

He landed a blow, slightly harder than the previous ones, across one cheek. She let out a strangled cry and shook her head, muttering something unintelligible into the sofa cushion.

“Miss French? Have you learned your lesson?”

He loosened his grip and leaned in closer. He stroked her loose hair, now matted by sweat, away from her face. She turned her head awkwardly to look at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wild.

“Don’t. Stop. Don’t stop.” She huffed out.

He swore loudly, his cock surging against its confines.

This girl would be the death of him. And he would die smiling.

He reclaimed the tight hold on her and rained down another series of hard and fast slaps, alternating cheeks. When Lacey was crying out with each blow, he stopped and soothed the skin once more, tracing one finger lightly down her slit. The scent of her arousal hung thick and heavy in the air. She was completely soaked and it was taking every ounce of his will not to bend her over the table next to them. That had not yet entered their tentative agreement and he had no reason to believe he would be welcome.

Instead, he tickled the insides of her thighs until her legs fell open and her breathing evened out a little.

He closed his eyes, hoping for an answer in the affirmative. “Is this what you want, Miss French? Tell me what you want…”

She nodded heavily against the cushion.

“Tell me, Miss French. Tell me what you need…” He coaxed, tracing her inner lips and flicking one fingertip over the fleshy nub at their apex.

“Oh God… yes…. Please….” She hissed, shunting her hips toward his hand as best she could while he held her fast. “Please Father…”

“Please what?” His palm pressing to her entrance, he rubbed more firmly across her clit. 

“Please…. Make me come, Father Gold.” She sobbed out, bucking her hips with unbridled need.

Not a force on heaven or Earth could have stopped him from obeying such a request. He turned to the task with alacrity, fingers driving her in a frenzied rhythm as she keened and undulated against him. All thoughts of punishment forgotten, he drove her relentlessly up that peak. She broke with an inarticulate curse (and what may have been his name) on her lips. The force of his own climax nearly took him by surprise.

After a few minutes, Lacey rolled onto her back. “Jesus.” She stretched, catlike and sighed contentedly. “I think I need a cigarette.”

“That makes two of us, Luv.” He leaned drowsily against the sofa back, one hand idly tracing patterns on her upper thigh.

“Father Gold!” The Mother Superior’s voice rang out in a nearby hallway rousing them both from the dazed afterglow.

Lacey rolled to her feet, readjusting her uniform and throwing her hair into a messy bun. Gold made a sound of annoyance but followed suit. His black trousers showed very obvious stains, but he could get to his rooms from the rectory without passing the Mother Superior. He certainly didn’t mind making her wait.

“Father Gold! We need you at the abbey!” The Mother Superior pounded on the locked door.

“You’re very popular with the ladies, today” Lacey whispered.

“You needn’t sound so shocked.” He whispered back with a smirk, taking her hand.

Gold lead Lacey out of through another door to a rarely used corridor. They faced one another in the low light, oddly shy after everything. Lacey swallowed audibly and slid pale, unsteady hands up to his shoulders. Her eyes searched his, all pretense of the brazen hussy suddenly dropping away. She leaned up, eyes falling closed and softly pressed her lips to his. He was almost too stunned to respond, but managed to catch her bottom lip between both of his before she pulled away. As she stepped back, she gave him a crooked grin and the mask fell back into place.

“See you next Sunday, Father.” She winked and sauntered away, swinging her hips in little figure eights. 


	7. Who Can Stand Before Jealousy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slice of character development, a smattering of backstory, and just a sprinkling of bad sex puns. 
> 
> More smut in the next chap (shocking, I know).

There was a time… had to have been a time when he enjoyed this work. Gold was a man of high standards and good taste. He wouldn’t have taken to the church without good reason. Once per month, he collected rent on the properties owned by the church’s nonprofit, the Mercy Foundation. He, himself, was bound by a vow of poverty. His vows did not limit him from running a business for the church that owned over half of Storybrooke. Short and slight of stature, Father Gold was not an intimidating figure on his lonesome. When he came to collect rent and lay down the law, he had the power of God on his side. He found that between money and religion, there was very little he could not get away with. That, at least, he enjoyed.

After a long day of proselytizing the inhabitants of Storybrooke, it was not unusual for Father Gold to tuck himself into a corner of the local pub and drown his sorrows. A few days after turning Lacey over his lap, Father Gold again sought out the comfort of the Rabbit Hole’s darkened booths and cheap but strong whiskey. The Rabbit Hole was a dingy, shadowy place of ill repute, but it was the only bar in town and Father Gold had a lot of sorrows to drown. It got raided every few weeks by Sheriff Graham. It would shut down for a day or two then rebound stronger than ever, with one more story to tell. Small towns liked their secrets, after all, and there was no place more clandestine than the Rabbit Hole.

The bartender with the slicked back hair greeted him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Evening, Pops. What’ll it be?”

Gold’s lip curled, involuntarily. He never wore the collar when he came here. Most of these souls were as lost as his own and it felt good not having to pretend to care. But some amount of respect would not have gone amiss. “Whiskey. Neat. And a clean glass this time, if that’s possible.” He snarled and dug into his pocket for the cash.

The bartender disingenuously flashed his very straight teeth once more. “No problem.”

Gold narrowed his eyes at the greasy man and produced the requisite amount of money. The dislike he bore the man was rivalled in vehemence only by that he held for the Mother Superior and Madame Mayor. He bore no love for any of the townsfolk, but those three in particular roused his ire. There was something conspicuously comparable about them, despite having no outward similarities. He could never quite put his finger on it, but he abhorred each as though they had done him some unjustifiable wrong.

At least Madame Mayor, with her veiled accusations of financial fraud, had earned his hatred. Every once in a while, Regina would find reason to bring his rental property records into question, claiming that he was skimming off the top. Unfortunately for her, he kept meticulous records.

These unpleasant thoughts made for surly, unsatisfying company as he sank halfway into the bottle. But where else did a drunken, broken priest have to go, of an evening?

The door pushed open and through it spilled two young women, giggling and dressed for much warmer weather than Storybrooke had to offer. He recognized one pair of legs immediately and shifted further down in his seat. The last thing he needed now was for Lacey French to catch him with his wits scattered.

“Hello Ladies.”

Ruby flung herself into a barstool. “Hey Keith. We in time for happy hour?”

“With you here, it’s always a happy hour, baby.” Keith gave them a toothy grin. Lacey smiled back and Gold ground his teeth.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Like you don’t say that to everything in a short skirt.”

The bartender shrugged. “I can’t help it if I appreciate true beauty.” He winked at Lacey. She slid into the seat next to Ruby with a giggle.

Gold’s whiskey-soured stomach roiled as Lacey beamed under the vile bartender’s ham-fisted attentions. He knew he had no right to expect her to see him the way he saw her. Until she had a particular itch to scratch, he doubted she gave him a second thought. Seeing her flirt with another man was bad enough, the fact it was Keith got his blood near to boiling. He briefly entertained an odd but cheery fantasy of somehow turning the man into a snail and stepping on him. He shook himself. What a strange thought to have. Beating the man down with his cane seemed a far more practical idea, however neither one was particularly feasible.

Sheriff Graham was no real threat but Gold did not want to give Regina any reason to wreak havoc in his life. Not to mention that someone had to keep the Mother Superior and her bothersome little ducklings in check. Gold could hardly manage the town from a jail cell. So he kept his cane to himself, gripping the handle tightly under the table.

The evening waned, Lacey and Ruby played pool with a couple of young men, probably former students of his though he could not recall their names. She seemed oblivious to his presence, amazing with the way his eyes nearly burned a hole in her backside every time she bent over the table. Then again, she had said herself that she was accustomed to being watched.

Unfortunately, the only one who did notice him watching her was his would-be rival. Eventually Keith sauntered over to the corner table.

“You gonna buy another drink, old man?”

Gold bristled and glared up at him. “I haven’t finished this one.”

He put his hands on his hips. “Yeah, and you haven’t touched it in an hour. I figure maybe you need a new one.”

“Is business that slow? You need to hassle customers to buy your shoddy, watered down wares?” He snarled.

Keith chewed his toothpick and glanced pointedly at Lacey and then back at Gold. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “All I’m sayin’ is this ain’t a museum and we don’t charge by the hour. So if you’re gonna window shop, you do it at the mall. You buyin’ another or what?”

Gold pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. He hated his twisted leg now more than ever for making him feel so weak. Standing, he still didn’t equal Keith’s height. His heart pounding in his chest, he approached the taller man slowly. Keith’s eyebrows raised and he stumbled back a little as Gold approached. He had obviously been expecting Gold to back down when threatened. In the past, he might have. Something about Lacey being here, and being _his_ (even if she didn’t know it) made him want to retaliate.  

He put on his most unpleasant smile. “Who owns the lease on this rathole?”

“Uh, I do.” Keith answered uneasily, crossing his arms.

“Try again.” He hefted his cane in one hand and twirled it a little, every inch the pantomime villain. It felt good.

Keith looked around. The bar had gone still. All eyes were on them. “I, uh, I think it’s the Spencer Corporation…. Why?”

Spencer Corporation owned pretty much all of Storybrooke that the church did not, mostly the businesses. Gold smiled even wider, his eyes cold and glittering with joyful menace. “I think the Mercy Foundation might like to have a word with Albert Spencer about buying up this property. It would be an excellent location for a new playground. You know how Corporations love charitable foundations, come tax time. If your profits are suffering so much, they might be all too happy to unload the burden for a nice, healthy tax break.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Keith looked like a man trying not to count on his fingers.

Gold rolled his eyes. He had forgotten how tiring it could be to threaten idiots. He exhaled impatiently, steeling himself to explain when he heard a soft noise behind Keith.

Lacey cleared her throat again and stepped around Keith. “He’s talking about buying the bar and tearing it down, mate. Spencer’s greedy enough to go along with it, too. I’d be nicer to the good Father, if I were you.” She met Gold’s gaze for the first time that night. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright with… excitement? Alcohol? Could that be… arousal? She made that lip smacking noise and glanced disdainfully at Keith. “He could own you.”

Something feral and deeply masculine inside of him reared its head and roared its pleasure. He shifted his stance so his long coat would cover his lower body and quickly formulated a plan. He needed to get Lacey out of the bar and alone with him. _Now._

“Miss French, while I appreciate your explanation, it occurs to me that you are decidedly not of age to be frequenting this establishment.”

She widened her eyes, a portrait of innocence. “I only had a soda and played a little pool.”

He held back a snort of disbelief. “Regardless, I’m afraid it is my duty as an authority figure to see you clear of this place immediately. It’s a school night, after all.” He turned to Keith. “You and I are not finished, but I can see fit to be lenient if you promise to work on developing some customer service.” He nodded to Ruby. “Perhaps Ruby over there can give you some pointers.”

He head toward the door and turned. “Miss French, do I need to call Sheriff Graham?”

Lacey put on a pout and stomped her way over to him. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He took her elbow. When she was the only one within earshot, he murmured, “Not yet. But you will be.”

He heard her inhale sharply as he led her out the door and into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with The Rabbit Hole and with Keith. He just kinda made sense as the sleazy bartender.


	8. Lift Up Your Hands to the Holy Place

If tiny little Storybrooke could be said to have a slum, it was the street on which the Rabbit Hole was located. Gold’s threat to build a playground there had been as empty as Keith’s head. No city ordinance would have allowed unsupervised children in the area. But it had done the intentioned job of intimidating the rude bartender, with the added bonus of bringing a decidedly stimulated Lacey to his side.

She leaned in close to him as they walked out, tottering on heels that made her approximately the same height as he. After a few feet, he paused to offer her his coat. She smiled slyly.

“I'm sure you can think of better ways of warming me up.”

He had hoped to get her back to the rectory, but there was no way he would last until then with her talking like that. He glanced around for any witnesses before making a slap-dash decision and pulling her into the nearest alleyway. There was a wavering streetlamp above them and a boarded up building across the street. The bar was only a few yards away and the buildings on either side were residential. As luck would have it, their windows did not face the alley.

He crowded her against the brick wall, pressing his hips to hers. “Is this what you had in mind?” He whispered darkly into her ear.

“Mmm, yes, Father.” She purred, grinding against him.

He reached down and toyed with the flimsy, sequined hem of her dress. The fabric was practically falling apart in his fingers and he wondered briefly when was the last time she had been able to afford new clothing. She quickly distracted him from that train of thought by leaning in to nibble his earlobe. A jolt of pleasure shot straight to his groin as her breath tickled his ear.

He pushed away the urge to rut against her like an animal and pulled back, pinning her shoulders to the wall with both hands. Beneath the garish fashion, she really was remarkably beautiful. So fair and so full of fire. He realized in that moment that he wanted nothing more in the world but than to take her to a proper bed and worship her for the entire night. He wanted to learn every single second of her pleasure and play her body like a fine tuned instrument. He wanted the privilege of being her lover, not just a plaything she turned to when she needed a thrill.

But he was not her lover. He was a priest, and a bad one at that. 

And all she really wanted from him, it seemed, was a bit of rough and tumble.

Still…if he was clever (and he was a very clever man), perhaps he could have it both ways.

She made an impatient noise and Gold tucked away his reveries for later.

“Well?”

He touched a finger to her lips. She parted them and skimmed her tongue against it, her eyes dancing, but stayed silent. Leaning back in, he whispered “If you make a single sound, I will stop. Understood?”

She took a breath, ostensibly to answer, then seemed to think the better of it and simply nodded.

“Good girl.” He smirked.

She raised an eyebrow at that but her face went slack as he palmed her breast through the thin material of her dress. Her nipples were already taut from the cool night air and her building arousal. He twisted one lightly between his fingers and heard her swallow a whimper.

He continued to manipulate one breast with his hand, lowering his mouth to the other, lathing it with his tongue, and leaving the fabric damp. Pulling the stiff nub between his lips, he teased it with tongue and teeth. Her hands buried in his hair, tugging at it whenever he did something she especially liked. He switched his mouth to the other breast as he rested his cane against the wall.

Both hands found the backs of her thighs and slid upward. When she was playing pool, he had noticed the red thong she wore and imagined pulling it off with his teeth. Unfortunately, with his bum leg, at this angle, it would have been very difficult to do with any kind of finesse. He settled for snapping it against the sensitive skin. She twitched a little and clutched at his jacket, pulling him closer.  Then he was pushing it aside, just the way she had described in her “confession” not so very long ago.

As he lightly stroked her dripping slit, he noticed her eyes fall shut. That part of him that had raged at watching her with Keith the wanker made its displeasure known.

“No, no… Don’t close your eyes…” He hissed. “I want you to look at me, Lacey. See me making you wet and needy. No one else is doing that to you. Every man at the bar tonight wanted you but I’m the one with his hand between your thighs.”

Her eyes flew open and locked on his, dark and hungry in the flickering light.

He rewarded her with a tweak to her hooded clit that made her buck her hips. before circling it slowly with one damp finger. He watched her pale throat work as she swallowed.

 “Good girl.” He repeated.

She exhaled heavily and bit her lower lip as he slid two fingers over her folds, the tips just brushing her entrance.

“So wet, Lacey… Are you always so wet? Or is that just for me?” He murmured, almost more to himself than to her. He caught her eyes again as he slid one finger inside her. She was hot and tight and velvety soft. He started reciting his least favorite bible verses in his head to stop himself from losing control as he slowly fucked her with one finger, then added another. With one hand, she seemed to be clutching his jacket for dear life, the other flew to her mouth as he twisted his fingers upward and brushed against a certain spot.

“Oh yes… there it is…” He sped up his rhythm, hitting that spot again and again. His thumb came to her clit, rubbing furiously.  Her hips shunted downward meeting him thrust for thrust, her pearly little teeth digging into the side of her hand to keep silent. He felt her clamp down on his digits, a high-pitched keening sound escaping from the back of her throat. He pulled her hand from her mouth and kissed her, hard, swallowing the sound as she shuddered violently against him.

Her knees nearly buckled as she rode out her orgasm, but he kept them both upright, planting gentle kisses on every part of her face that he could reach. When she had recovered herself, her hand went to his fly. The zipper was halfway down when they heard voices coming down the street.

Gold glanced around them in a panic, as if it had not previously occurred to him not to conduct their illicit affair in an open alleyway.

“Shit.” Lacey muttered under her breath. She turned toward the wall and gave him a grim look. “Just… hold my hair back and go with this, ok?”

He nodded dumbly and did as he was bid, wrapping her messy ponytail around his hand.

Just then, Ruby and a local mechanic Gold vaguely recognized stopped at the entrance to the alley. Lacey bent double, one hand on the wall in front of her, and made a coughing, retching sound.

“She ok, Father?” Ruby asked

Falling into his expected role he snapped back “Clearly not. Perhaps you should find out what your bartender puts in his soda. Although if that’s all she had to drink tonight, I’m a bloody flying monkey.”

Ruby glared at him. “Religious compassion, my ass.” She muttered, none too quietly. “Lace? Lacey, honey? Do you need a doctor?”

“No!” Lacey stood up, leaning heavily on the wall. “M’not sick. M’fine.” She slurred.

 “Yeah… ok honey. Do you want me and Billy to take you home?” Ruby soothed a hand over Lacey’s back.

Lacey nodded blearily. “Shouldn’ta had that last shot or six, maybe.”

Ruby looked at Gold. “Look, I got her from here, ok? You can go commune with the Holy Spirit or whatever.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Fine. I will still, of course, be making a full report to her Father and to the Reverend Mother.”

“I had no doubt.” Ruby observed dryly before ignoring him completely and leading Lacey away. Lacey glanced surreptitiously back at him and winked. The corner of his mouth twitched upward but he maintained his stern composure until the trio was out of sight. 


	9. And Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Lacey’s attendance on Sundays was spotty, at best. After their little performance in the alley, he feared she might avoid him to strategize the next power play. He had pressed his advantage and it was only a matter of time before she saw fit to take the reins back. He fumbled through the week’s sermon, his stomach a knot of (not altogether unpleasant) anticipation.

His heart leapt a little when he spotted her in the chapel, after services. She was leaning casually against a pillar and reading a dog-eared book. She wore a loose shirt that fell past one shoulder and a minuscule pleated skirt. Ripped tights covered her shapely legs, which ended in boots, the laces of which, he noted with amusement, had tiny crosses etched on them. She did not look up or say a word as he passed her on his way to the confessional.

He slipped into the little booth, his nerves thrumming. Dr. Whale started with a litany of lustful thoughts, as always, and ended on a tirade about feeling underappreciated as a physician. Mrs. Lucas was curt and to the point. Dr. Hopper had just finished up when the door to Gold’s booth slowly creaked open.

He looked up, a terse word at the ready. It fell unused from his tongue when he saw his uninvited guest. Lacey, grinning like the devil, squeezed quickly into the booth and shut the door behind her.

He shook his head, unable to find his voice, as she straddled his lap and kissed him.

“My confession this week is a show and tell.” She murmured against his lips. 

“We can’t… not in here.” He protested weakly, his traitorous hands already molding to her waist. “There are still parishioners out there.”

“I know. No one saw me, though.” She shrugged, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and rolling her hips into his. “Besides, I’ve let you run this show too long, already.” She kissed him again, snaking her tongue between his lips quickly before withdrawing it. “Wouldn’t want you to forget who’s really in charge, here.”

He felt himself lengthening and thickening beneath her, seemingly in agreement. His whole body seemed to be working against his better judgment. But wasn’t that always the case when it came to Lacey?

He relented with a dark chuckle “I couldn’t forget that if I tried, luv.” One hand came up to stroke her curls. She was leaning in for another kiss when they heard the door on the other side of the confessional open and shut. Lacey gave a squeak of surprise and slid immediately to the floor. Kneeling between his feet, she looked up with an impish grin and placed a finger to her lips, as he had done in the alley the week before.  Those blue eyes alone could have stunned him into silence. He nodded his understanding.

“Father?” Mary Margaret’s voice came through the grate.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, my child. Have you come to confess your sins?”

“I have. It has been two weeks since my last confession.” Mary Margaret began a familiar run down of innocuous offenses. Gold had heard her confession more than most in town. She would eventually end on her guilt over entertaining romantic fantasies about a certain local coma patient. Gold saw no real sin in that, but he suspected she just wanted to be able to talk about it. He had stopped paying attention years ago.

Today, he was far more interested in the path Lacey’s red-painted nails were tracing across his trousers. She smoothed both hands up his thighs, lightly massaging the muscles there, before shying away from the one place currently begging her attention. He gave her a pleading look. Her smile widened and she bent her head to his lap. Through the fabric, he felt her hot breath being exhaled against his sensitive flesh. He shifted involuntarily in his chair. Lacey gave him a mockingly stern look, placing a hand flat against him abdomen to press him back into his seat.

He swallowed and nodded again. She was in charge, now. He would live or die by her ever-capricious whim. And Lord help him if the very thought of being both figuratively and literally a in her hands didn’t make him rock hard in an instant.

Lacey nuzzled him once more through his trousers, and slid his belt out of its buckle. She unbuttoned the top then slowly – oh so achingly slowly – slid the zipper down. His hardness sprang toward her, unquestionably eager. He wore simple cotton undergarments, a damp spot just forming over the tip. These she unceremoniously pushed out of the way. For just a moment, he felt her hesitate and his whole world seemed to hang by a thread.

Did she find him somehow lacking? He wouldn’t have had the first idea how to find out if he was adequate in that department. Was she disappointed? Disgusted? He held his breath until she reached out to tentatively grasp the shaft. As her soft little fingers curled around him she looked up. There was no disguising the naked lust in those deceptively innocent eyes. A chorus of Angels sung in his mind.

Lacey’s hand moved leisurely, stroking him up and down, up and down. He grasped onto the sides of the bench to keep himself still. Her thumb swiped over the tip, spreading the gathering moisture and he praised every saint in the heavens that he had lived long enough to experience this moment.

Lacey shifted her weight so that her mouth was aligned with the tip of his cock. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open, working soundlessly. Mary Margaret’s melodic tones were drowned out completely as the blood pounded in his ears. He was probably cherry red in the face and he couldn’t have cared less. His entire focus narrowed to where Lacey’s petal pink lips parted and her tongue ventured out to taste him.

After a few light licks, she grew more adventurous, pulling back the foreskin to swirl her tongue around the head. He tried to remember what it felt like to breathe normally as she flicked her tongue along the underside of the shaft. When Lacey’s hot, wet mouth finally enclosed him, his head hit the back wall with a thud.

“Father? Are you alright?” Mary Margaret asked, in alarm.

“Aye!” He choked out, hoarsely. “Oh, aye. I’m fine. Bumped my… knee. Please… continue.” He panted.

Lacey looked like she would have laughed if she hadn’t had a mouthful of cock. As it was, she brought her hand back up to work him in tandem with her mouth. There was a certain brash lack of finesse as she found a rhythm that the still-functioning part of his brain found oddly endearing. Momentarily emboldened, his hands came to rest in her silky hair, twining the curls around his fingers.

As Mary Margaret chirped away about comatose John Doe, her confessor wallowed in the most exquisite agony of his life. He was desperate for it not to end but Lacey soon set a pace that had his balls tightening and his cock pulsing, ready to explode. He pulled lightly at her hair to warn her he was close. This only made her suck harder, hollowing out her cheeks. Before he could take another breath, he was blinded by the most intense orgasm he could ever remember experiencing.

Her throat worked to drink him down but she gagged a little and he hurriedly began coughing to cover the sound.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Father?” Mary Margaret asked, her voice tinny and far away in his post-orgasmic bliss. “Would you like me to get you some water?”

“No, no. That’s alright, thank you.” He hastily replied. “You may recite three Hail Marys and an Our Father when you leave. Give thanks to the Lord for He is good." He dismissed her.

"For His mercy endures forever." Mary Margaret responded dutifully.

The door on the other side opened and closed and Father Gold sagged with relief. Lacey’s chin rested on his knee, looking thoughtful. He tucked away his wilting cock, uncertain what else to say or do.

“I…” He began quietly. She shook her head, placing one sticky finger to his lips.

Her angelic little face looking up at him like that, half youthful mischief, half somber understanding, was a stab to the heart and for the life of him he could not figure out why. So, he pulled her up for a kiss. Cradling her head as if it were made of porcelain, he tasted himself and some sort of candy she must have been eating earlier. He tried to press into that kiss all the things he could not seem to put into words.

When she pulled away, she was looking at him curiously. She seemed to shake it off and peeked out of the door. “Coast is clear,” she whispered. When he tried to reach for her again, she withdrew all too quickly, with a childish giggle. “Next time, it’s my turn.”  She stuck out her tongue at him and bounded through the door. 


	10. The Spirit, Indeed, is Willing

Father Gold didn’t know if he could risk assigning Lacey another detention just to get her alone. The Mother Superior was not entirely blind to the fact that he favored the girl. Making such public arrangements might arouse suspicion. That was the last thing Gold needed with the Reverend Mother and Madame Mayor both breathing down his neck. They were both waiting with baited breath for him to make a mistake.

But Gold had always been too careful for them.

Until now.

Something about Lacey kept making him throw caution to the wind. Just having her by his side got his blood hot. He had tried to wrest the situation under control, giving Lacey what she wanted (what they both wanted, if he’s being honest). That only made the need for her multiply. Thoughts of her danced between his dreams and nearly every waking thought. It was obscene how much he wanted her.

So, he did something foolhardy once more and slipped a note (unsigned, of course – he’s not that stupid) between the pages of her latest assignment. It was simple and direct, with a meeting place and a dress code. He knew she would figure out what he was about, perhaps before he had even worked up the nerve to go through with it.

When he arrived at the cottage in the woods, the door was already unlocked. He fought down a momentary panic, worried that one of the nuns suddenly remembered that this place existed on the church’s property.

Luckily, his fears were allayed when he recognized a pair of Lacey’s shoes by the sofa. He locked the door behind him, feeling like a dragon who just trapped his very own princess. But Lacey was no damsel in distress as she ran toward her captor with open arms.

“I made us drinks.” She grinned, handing him a surprisingly well made Manhattan.

He accepted it, silently appraising her. She was dressed exactly as he had requested, button down shirt and plaid skirt complete with the knee socks and crested school tie. She had wrangled her dark curls into two plaits and her starched uniform skirt was even approximately the right length.

She shifted on her socked feet, rolling one ankle and then the other. Her hands came to her hips. “Well?”

He sipped his drink, a smile spreading across his face. “Always so impatient.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not impatient, you’re just slow.”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” he murmured into his glass before setting it on a nearby table. As he crossed the small room, his gait was steady despite the rapid pounding of his heart. He tugged gently at one thick pigtail. “Nice touch.”

“Mm, well I’m nothing if not thorough.” Her dark lashes swept across her cheeks before those dazzling eyes caught his again.

“I’d noticed.” He responded, his voice growing rougher as desire washed over him. Amazing, the effect that Lacey’s very proximity could have on him. “Where does your father think you are, Lacey?”

Her forehead wrinkled then relaxed. “I left a note saying I’m at Ruby’s but I doubt he’ll notice I’m gone.”

Gold nodded. “Good.” The hand not holding his cane grasped her waist and pulled her to him. “Then, we’ve got all night.” He rested his cane against the nearest table to free up his other hand.

She swallowed audibly, her brows raising. “For… for what?”

He gave her his filthiest grin and began to undo her tie. It slipped out of its tidy knot and he tucked it into one pocket. He made short work of her buttons, sliding her open blouse down her shoulders until it fell to the floor.

He traced the line of her jaw and neck, down to her now-exposed collarbone, leaning in to plant a trail of kisses on each jutting protuberance. With a flick of his tongue to the hollow of her throat, he worked his way in fluttering kisses and licks, back to her ear. He nuzzled one and then the other, nibbling on the lobes, running his tongue lightly along the shell. She shivered against him, her breathing quick and shallow. He could feel her heart racing against his chest.

Her hands fluttered at her sides briefly before wrapping around to splay against his back. Her nails dug in whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Eventually, Gold tore himself away from her throat long enough to meet her eyes once more.

“Take off the rest of it. Leave the socks.” He backed away, taking up his cane and lowering himself to the closest chair. He crossed his hands over the top of the cane and looked at her expectantly.

Lacey bit her lower lip, tilting her head to the side to study him. “Afraid you’ll fumble with the bra?”

Not willing to take the bait, Gold simply waited. Lacey had won the last round unequivocally. Now it was time to remind her why she had chosen him as her dance partner in the first place.

She made a little scoffing noise, but the flush in her chest betrayed her nonchalance as an act. “Ok, fine. I’ll play. I usually like how these games end, anyway. But you know I’m gonna get you back for this, right?”

Gold felt his nostrils flare as he fought not to groan in anticipation. “Oh, aye. I’m terrified.” He deadpanned. “Now strip.”

Lacey’s eyes flared but lust won out. She unbuttoned the skirt and pushed it down her hips, her gaze never leaving his face. He watched her throat work as she reached behind to unhook her bra. It fell away and his mouth went dry. God above but she was fucking perfect. He gripped his cane tighter, ignoring the growing bulge in his trousers. As her hands framed the simple knickers she had chosen, she paused, looking uncertain. For just a moment, she was nothing more than the little girl lost Gold secretly suspected had always hidden behind the layers of makeup and hair. His heart felt heavy and he nearly told her to get dressed and go home. Lovely young creatures like her didn’t deserve to be pawed at by monsters like him, no matter how sharp their wits or tongues, no matter how prettily they played the part of the wicked.

Then her knickers were at her feet and every other thought had flown out of his head.

He cleared his throat and beckoned her forward. She stood inches from where his cane was planted, one hip cocked and a challenge in her eyes. He rose to his feet and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. His free hand dipped into his pocket to retrieve the school tie he had removed earlier.

He dangled it between them. “Do you trust me, Lacey?”


	11. But the Flesh is Weak

“Do you trust me, Lacey?”

The words hung in the air and Gold forced himself to breathe normally as Lacey contemplated them. For once, she had apparently decided to take her time. When she finally answered, it was with carefully measured tact, another departure for the usually blunt girl.

“I don’t think I’d be here if I didn’t.” Lacey admitted.

Gold gave her a tremulous smile, trying to project more confidence than he actually felt. “I appreciate your candor.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and tucked the tie back in his pocket. “This way.”

She fell in step with his measured pace as they walked to the small cabin’s only bedroom. His heart was thundering in his ears. He had no reason to be nervous, really. Lacey had freely disclosed that she wouldn’t be with him if she didn’t want to be. It was a Friday night and she could be anywhere, with anyone. But she had chosen him. A frisson of excitement ran down his spine.

The bed was a simple thing, a metal frame and a worn mattress. He had put fresh sheets on it the night before, in a giddy bout of wishful thinking.

Lacey sat on the edge of the bed and blinked up at him. He hooked his cane handle over one bedpost and brought the tie from his pocket. As he covered her eyes with it, Lacey chewed her lower lip.

“Hey, c'mon, you're not that ugly...” She said abruptly.

Gold froze, stomach sinking to his feet. He had never given much thought to what Lacey saw when she looked at him. He had long since accepted that Lacey's attraction was merely a cocktail of the attention he paid her, the powerful position he held in town, and the illicit nature of their connection. But some silly part of him had hoped that at least some of it was genuinely for him, as a man. His hands dropped limply to his sides, arousal dampening significantly. 

“Gold?” Lacey cocked her head curiously.

He found that he could say nothing, stuck fast in a perfect storm of shame and self-loathing.

Lacey ripped the tie away, her eyes wide with confusion and… could that be concern? She reached forward and took both of his hands in hers, her lips pressed together in a tight line. “It was just a joke, Gold. No need to get your man-panties in a bunch…”

His brow furrowed. “Nothing is… bunching.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You simply have an inelegant sense of humor.”

Lacey clambered to her knees so that they were almost eye level. “See, so you can spend your time insulting me but I can’t make a joke? That hardly seems fair.”

“This was never about fairness.” He asserted.

“Wasn’t it? Haven’t we been playing sort of quid pro quo? Don’t look so shocked, I know what fancy words mean, even if I don’t always use them.” She admonished when his mouth dropped open a little.

He absentmindedly toyed with one of her braids, encouraged when she didn’t bat his hand away. “I never had any doubt of that. You have a sharp mind, even if you refuse to employ it in any useful capacity.”

“Hmm, was that almost a compliment? A girl could get spoiled when you talk so pretty.” She batted her lashes at him playfully and he felt the knot in his stomach loosen, despite himself. She looked down, her mouth twisting. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood. I shouldn’t have said anything. I guess I’m just not very good at this.”

“To which ‘this’ are we referring?” He queried.

She gave a lopsided grin. “Being nice to someone.”

“Don’t go changing, just to please me.” He quoted glibly, stepping closer, his hands settling at the dip of her slender waist. “Nice is over rated, anyway. I’d settle for honest.”

She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “Honest may be asking too much. And I doubt you’d offer the same in return.” Her arms encircled his shoulders, one hand playing with his hair.

He swallowed hard. Lacey had a far better read on him than he had expected. “So what do you suggest?”

She studied his face, as though she was searching for some answer he couldn’t provide in words. He was uncomfortable under the scrutiny but tried not to shut her out. At long last she shrugged.

“You like making deals with people, right? I’ve heard it around town…”

He narrowed his eyes, instantly suspicious. She was right, of course. He was known through town for his ability to drive a hard bargain. The Mercy Foundation gave him more clout and prestige than his ecumenical title, especially since he had obtained a law degree before going to seminary. But he couldn’t think of a single reason Lacey would have need of those particular skills. “I don’t think you want to enter a contract, with me, dear.” He warned, his voice hardening.

Lacey looked taken aback. “Not like that… I just thought… well, we each obviously have something the other… wants.” There was an echo of something familiar in her assessment but he couldn’t place it. He was quickly distracted as one of her hands slid between them to cup him through his trousers. As she caressed it, his cock twitched back to life, eager to rejoin the conversation. He couldn’t have denied it if he tried – she had him dead to rights.

“And… what is it you want?” He had a good idea but he needed to hear the words. He needed to know once and for all that this craving ran deep for both of them.

“I think it should be rather obvious.” Lacey demurred, looking away.

He gripped her jaw, not too tightly but with purpose, and turned her back to face him. The hand caressing him stilled. She held his gaze, color high on her cheeks, pupils wide. His other hand dipped low to caress her inner thighs. The muscles jumped beneath his touch. He dragged a knuckle deliberately between her legs. To his delight, she was still wet. “Say the words and we’ll make our deal.” He breathed. “Tell me you can’t get what you need from anyone else.” He couldn’t keep just a hint of the pleading from his voice. No moment had ever felt even remotely as important as this one. He needed to hear that Lacey wanted him – and only him – more than he needed oxygen.

Her lower lip trembled for a second before something flared white hot in her eyes. She gripped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Her teeth sunk into his lower lip and he may or may not have tasted blood, as she ravaged his mouth. Her little hands tore at his clothing. He released her chin to grope at her flesh with both hands, nails raking across her back as she arched into him with a moan. As she freed him from his trousers, he grasped the firm but yielding curve of her ass and ground against her with abandon. They were not aligned as he would have liked, so he pulled away reluctantly.

Lacey’s eyes were wide and feral, her lips swollen from their ungentle exertions. His cock throbbed, now painfully hard. Lacey sprawled back onto the shallow mattress, her legs open wide. Before rational thought could intervene, Gold was on her. He kicked off his shoes and trousers, not caring a whit where they would land. His bad leg was screaming caution as he knelt over her, but he ignored it. What was a little pain when he had such a balm as Lacey French spread before him?

His mouth found her pulse point and he bit down, hard. Lacey howled her approval, her hips bucking and her hands scrabbling at his lower back. He hoisted himself to one elbow, snaking his free arm between them to grasp his cock. He aligned himself with her entrance, her molten heat coating the tip. Just as he was ready to push in, Lacey went completely stiff in his arms. Her hands fell away and balled into fists at her sides.

“Lacey…. “ He growled. What game was she playing, now? He looked up at her, every nerve ending screaming.

The look on her face stopped him cold.

“Lacey… what is it?” He asked, as smoothly his frenetically pumping heart would allow.

“N-nothing, Father…. Please don’t stop. I… I want this.” Her voice shook, but it was clearly not with just arousal. “It’s just… it won't hurt, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... please don't hate me?


	12. He Inclined to Me and Heard My Cry

Gold rolled off of Lacey and her legs snapped shut. He sat on the edge of the bed, too stunned to know what to do next.

In his peripheral, he watched Lacey pull her knees to her chest and cover her face with both hands.

“I’ve gone and made a mess of it again, haven’t I?” Her voice was thick with tears. “Shouldn’t have said anything.” She muttered.

He exhaled shakily and turned back to face her. “Of course you should have, Lacey.”

She peered at him between two fingers and shook her head. “You don’t have to stay. I know I fucked up the whole evening. We can just… pretend it never happened. Any of it.” She concluded, dully.

“Is that what you think I want?” He asked.

She gave a halfhearted shrug and sniffed loudly. Gold edged back onto the bed, pulling the blanket up from under them. Lacey shifted to allow it as he leaned back against the headboard and covered them both with the blanket. He faltered briefly before extending an arm to wrap around her.

“May I?”

She nodded and his arm encircled her shoulders. She slowly relaxed against him and he tucked her against his chest. Eventually, the shaking sobs receded and her breathing evened out. Father Gold used the silence to process this fresh and mostly unexpected information. His head was spinning. Suddenly, new light was shed on every interaction since that first time he had tried to kiss her. It had all been there, all the signs of her hesitance and hidden naiveté. The thought had crossed his own mind, at one point, but been summarily dismissed by the force of Lacey’s seeming certainty. He had to admit, her disguise had been better than his.

He closed his eyes tightly. A greater fool, he had never been.

“Gold?” Her voice broke through his bout of self-rebuke.

“Yes?”

“I do want to. I just… I guess I’m not as ready as I thought.” She sat up, bracing herself on one arm, the other holding the blanket to her chest. She gave him a look more raw and earnest than he would have previously believed her capable. “Do you hate me?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. “Hate you? Of course not, Lacey. Why on earth would you think such a thing?”

Her mouth twisted, gaze dropping to the bed between them. “Whenever I’d stop guys from… going too far, they would call me a tease or… something worse. It got pretty ugly a couple times. I guess I’m lucky none of them ever forced me or anything. I mean, I’m not stupid. I’ve always known I was playing with fire.”

His stomach clenched as he pictured the greasy bartender of the Rabbit Hole. “Who was it that called you names?” He bared his teeth. “I’d be all too happy to make them eat their words.”

Lacey looked up sharply. “I’d like that… But won’t it look bad for you, if you’re suddenly defending the virtue of the town bicycle?”

“But you’re not…” He began.

“Doesn’t matter.” Lacey shook her head. “In a small town like ours, reputation is everything. We are what we pretend to be. I mean, everyone knows Mayor Mills is full of shit, but we pretend not to notice because it just makes life easier not to catch her eye. Besides, even if I had done all the things I pretend to do, what difference would it really make?” She lay back against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest. “We all have parts to play. At least mine was the one I chose.”

There was a warped kind of wisdom in her words that tickled something at the back of Gold’s mind. Lately, he had been feeling uncomfortable in his skin, a sense of wrongness that only fell away when he could find time to spend with Lacey. He had taken this as further evidence of his strong infatuation with the girl, but now it was beginning to feel like something else entirely. Unfortunately, the thought slipped just out of his grasp as Lacey’s hand found his.

“Thanks for not… freaking out…” She ventured.

“It’s no matter.” Instinctually, he twined their fingers together. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t want to forget that it happened. Any of it.” He pulled her hand up and brushed his lips across the back of it. “Do you?”

She eyed him without turning her head. “You still… want me? Even if I’m not… ready for all of that, yet?”

He shifted to face her, placing his bad ankle carefully. “Sweetheart, I wanted you even when I thought the most gratification I’d ever get was a kiss on the cheek. None of that has changed. I can’t even begin to fathom how I got so lucky as to find my interest reciprocal… But if all you ever want is for me to make you come repeatedly, I will count myself truly blessed.”

She made a high pitched noise and in a blur of movement, Gold found himself with two heaping armfuls of Lacey French. She kissed his nose and his brow, each cheekbone twice, before easing her lips over his. He held her loosely, letting her show him what she wanted. When her mouth opened, he explored it languidly. It felt very different from their previous encounters. There was a leisureliness that felt simultaneously familiar and totally alien. For once, there was no pressure to beat her at her own game, to make her want him more.

Her hands buried in his hair, running her fingers repeatedly through its length. He bore her gently to the mattress. This time, Lacey remained warm and pliant in his arms as he discovered her anew. There was a mark at the juncture of her neck and shoulder that he must have left previously. He planted an open-mouthed kiss on it and she shivered beneath him. Her taut nipples brushed his chest and he ducked his head to take each in turn into his mouth. As he suckled them, his hands mapped her skin in broad strokes. He ran his tongue along the underside of each breast before tracing indistinct patterns across her ribs and abdomen.

She jumped slightly when he nibbled one hipbone, her fingers flexing where they rested against his shoulders. Her legs fell open as he crawled his way down the bed to settle his shoulders between them. She hummed her appreciation as he breathed hotly across her sex, now glistening with fresh arousal. He circled her hooded clit with the tip of his tongue and her back arched off the bed. He smoothed his hand over her belly to press her back down. A glance upward showed her eyes half shut and gleaming in the moonlight.

He raised one brow in a silent bid for permission. She nodded enthusiastically.

With that fear allayed, he readily returned his attention to the task at hand. Hooking one thigh over each of his shoulders, he buried his face between her legs, licking and sucking at her heated flesh for all he was worth. Her voice crooning his name soon turned to inarticulate gasps. He relished the slick, musky taste of her and the way her thighs quivered when he hit just the right spot. He unrelentingly sought her pleasure, not pulling away as she peaked. Instead, he added two fingers, thrusting deeply and grinding himself into the mattress as her sopping cunt clamped down on them, hard. At some point, he spilled himself between his belly and the sheet, but he barely noticed.

Only when Lacey was satiated to the point of utter exhaustion did he allow himself respite. He crawled unsteadily up to lay his head on the pillow beside hers. Wordlessly, Lacey curled into his side, her head cradled on his shoulder. She was asleep in minutes. Gold found himself following quickly, losing himself in a half-waking dream of a far-away castle and Lacey wearing a long blue dress.

 

 


	13. I have made a Covenant with my Eyes

The morning light found them all too soon. As Father Gold blearily opened his eyes, he struggled to remember why there was something heavy sprawled across him. The previous night came flooding back to mind as Lacey sighed in her sleep. He had not intended to stay the night. But after the evening’s emotional rollercoaster, followed by his carnal exertions, he had slept like the dead.

For the latter, at least, he felt no sense of regret.

Truth be told, with the way things had played out, he had very few regrets at all. The unexpected turn of events had peeled away an important layer of the strangely compelling mystery that was Lacey French. Her near-confession of innocence had not diminished his desire for her one iota. It had made him feel a bit more cautious, however. This Lacey, fresh and raw before him, with her defenses lowered, threw him off balance even further than the accomplished vixen he had taken her to be.

He thought back on their stolen moments together and wondered how many of his touches had been her first. It gave him a heady sense of pride, tempered by the sudden weight of responsibility. Lacey had appeared to be a woman in full control of her sexuality, despite her young age. Knowing it had been an act left him with a million questions he was too cowardly to ask.

Should he have moved more slowly? Had he been too rough with her? Would she have known the difference?

Where on earth had she learned how to do that thing with her tongue?

Lacey stirred once more and Gold fought to keep himself still. He had been fully erect since the moment his body recognized her soft warmth atop him. Picturing her sucking him off with such aplomb in the confessional did nothing to abate this.

Perhaps she was not entirely innocent...

There was a sense of relief in that, even as his ego sagged. He rolled his eyes at his own masculine folly. In all the time he had burned in lust for her, he had never cared if he was the first or the thousandth. He had simply wanted her. Why did this revelation have to change anything?

Lacey moved against him, her nose burrowing in the crook of his neck. His arms closed around her, instinctually. One hand buried itself in her curls, fallen loose from their plaits in her sleep. They lay like this for several minutes as he allowed his mind license to wander. He had made excuses to the parish for the day, intending to be thoroughly wrung out from a night of unbridled debauchery. Instead he was snuggled under the thin blanket, clutching his teenage lover in a cheap parody of the romance she deserved. Some long forgotten part of him wanted desperately to begin every day exactly like this. He felt awash in mingled tenderness and shame.

Lacey had always merited so much better than a broken priest could offer. Nothing about that had changed. Except that now, waking up with her in his arms, he knew for certain how much he wanted to be worthy of her. And how he never could be.

But she had still chosen him, against all odds. She had let him put his hands, his mouth on her. She had stayed the night and shared a bed with him.

And, he realized with a start, she had just closed her hand around his cock under the blanket.

Not asleep any longer, it appeared. She stroked him, a little roughly with no lubrication.

He grunted, reaching down to still her hand. “Lacey… No…”

She lifted her head from his chest, propping it up on the hand that was not touching him. “Well, good morning to you too, Mr. Grumpy.”

He pulled an exaggeratedly exasperated face and she giggled. He continued, “I just meant that… you don’t have to do that. You owe me nothing.”

She blinked several times rapidly. “Of course I don’t have to. You never agreed to my deal, after all. I just want to.” She gave him a fond squeeze and his anatomy gave a pulse of agreement.

“I can’t begin to fathom why…”

Lacey made an impatient noise, heaving herself from the bed and pushing away the covers. In a single fluid motion, she had moved his arm out of the way and was straddling his upper thighs. Her delicious cunt was so enticingly exposed, it took him a minute to refocus on the fact she was still talking. “What?” He managed to stammer out.

She gave him a long suffering look. “I said ‘because I want you’, you goon.”

“No accounting for taste....”

“You’re kinda ruining the moment here, Gold.” She chided.

“My apologies. Please, as you were…” He offered contritely.

Her mouth twisted but her eyes lit with amusement. She glanced briefly around them before clambering off of him to grab something from the floor. It turned out to be his trousers. Or rather, the belt that she threaded out of their loops. He raised an eyebrow as she climbed back on top of him, wielding the belt in one hand.

Her intentions became entirely clear as she looped the belt through the metal bars of the headboard. She settled back on top of him, inadvertently pressing her wetness against his hard flesh. His abdomen was bowstring tight as Lacey ran her hands through the sparse hair there and up to his shoulders. He yielded immediately, blood pumping hard with anticipation. Leaning forward, bracing her knees on either side of his hips, she placed both of his hands above his head.

“Afraid I’ll run away?” He aimed for light and teasing but his voice came out entirely too hoarse.

Lacey looked down, between the V of his arms as they were suspended over his head. “You’d have done that already by now. I’m just reminding you who makes the rules.” Her husky response and heavy lidded gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

Oh yes, how could he have ever thought _he_ would be the one to corrupt _her_? Lack of experience did not equate unwillingness to learn. With a learning curve like Lacey’s, it was no wonder he found himself stumbling to keep up.

When his hands were securely fastened, Lacey crawled backwards down his body. Her taut nipples grazed him as she moved, in a way he was certain was intentional. She scattered little fluttering kisses to his ribs, belly and hipbones. He stared at her, longing holding him far more captive than the clumsy twist of his belt. Eventually, she settled between his legs in a reversal of their position the previous night, and ran her tongue the length of his cock. It jumped toward her and she giggled. She placed an open mouthed kiss to the tip.

“Lacey….” He whimpered.

She looked up at him, her azure eyes dark with want. “You don’t have to be quiet, either, this time.” Drawing back the foreskin with one hand, she teased the vein throbbing there with the tip of her tongue.

He groaned his appreciation, hands pulling against their constraint. “Where did you…?” The words escaped before he could stop them. He clamped his mouth shut. Only this maddeningly tantalizing girl could have him so undone with a flick of her tongue.

“Where did I learn to do this?” Lacey asked nonchalantly, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him fully into her mouth. He watched in fascination as his shaft disappeared halfway and then reappeared. She released him with a popping sound. “I read.” She said, her hand sliding up and down, turning in half circles.

His hips bucked involuntarily as she suckled the head once more, continuing to pump the shaft.

“I read a lot.” She added matter-of-factly.

His response came out as an inarticulate cry as Lacey’s greedy mouth enveloped him once more.


	14. Does not Consist in Talk but in Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected turn of events...

After that first night at the cabin, things shifted between Lacey and Father Gold. Their time together no longer felt like a desperate bid for the upper hand. Their tussles became more play than war. Not that Lacey ever let him forget for a second who was on top. But there was a softness to her now that he had never dreamed of finding. When her passions had been satisfied, she let him hold her. He drifted to sleep on several occasions, feeling their heartbeats fall into sync.

Staying the night was a luxury they could not often afford. Still, Gold became a dab hand at slipping away for a few hours at a time, unheeded. The weather got warmer and then cooler. Lacey still rarely went to school but when she did, it was with a purposeful gleam in her eye. They continued to exchange notes, unsigned and vague at best. Usually, he delivered a question mark and received a number indicating the time they would meet.

Since the cabin was so infrequently used by anyone else, they made it a safe haven of sorts. It was a risk, but there weren’t many other spaces in town where they might not be discovered. The rectory held fond memories but was far too easily exposed. Sneaking her into his room above the boys’ dormitory was not an option and he obviously could not go to her father’s house. It had a trellis she used on the rare occasions Moe French might ask after her. But Gold could no more climb that than scale a mountainside.

It was early evening one Friday in mid-autumn, as he drove to their latest planned dalliance at the cabin. He would have been there earlier but a clumsy nun had managed to break several bottles of sacramental wine. Enough had splashed down his front that he had been force to change into another shirt and trousers.

The light was on as he arrived. He loped through the front door as fast as his leg would allow, already craving Lacey’s sweet touch. He was flying high, spinning out with a giddy anticipation. And then the wind was taken out of his sails completely.

“Father Gold, well, this is unexpected…” the furrow in Mayor Regina Mills’ elegantly plucked brow indicated that she was being truthful, for once.

He winged a prayer heavenward that the Mayor had not come to catch him in the act before frowning back at her. “Mayor Mills. I wasn’t aware you had access to this cabin.”

Regina made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Oh I borrowed the keys from the Mother Superior. I must say, I don’t think she was expecting you to be using it. You two really ought to coordinate your schedules.”

“Yes, well, I often come here for a bit of private meditation. She is perfectly aware of that.” Gold asserted, steadfastly not allowing his eyes to dart around seeking out traces of Lacey’s earlier presence. How had she avoided being seen? He could only imagine how differently things would have played out had Regina arrived an hour later. “What are you doing here, Ms. Mills?” He added testily.

Regina shrugged, “Henry was feeling restless. I thought a bit of camping might do him some good.”

Gold raised an eyebrow as he took in her expensive designer coat and stiletto heels. “I see you dressed for the occasion.”

“I do still have a town to run. And please keep your voice down. Henry is napping.”

Gold’s heart gave an odd twinge as the face of a sleeping child floated somewhere at the back of his memory. “Hmm. How old is the tyke now, anyway?”

Regina looked taken aback at the question. “He’s… he’s 10.”

Gold felt his eyes widen. “Time does fly. Seems like just yesterday I brought him to town…” His voice trailed off as he tried to remember the last time he had seen the Mayor’s adopted son. Surely he hadn’t missed 10 whole years of the boy’s life. Some part of his brain recalled Lacey had been there the day he found Henry for the Mayor. He remembered her wearing a rather outrageously tight pair of cut-offs. He had been so distracted; he had very nearly forgotten to meet with the adoption agency representative.

But that was impossible, because Lacey would have been… he didn’t want to think about how young. And still living in Australia. Lacey hadn’t even come to town until… a year ago? No, it had to be less. She hadn’t even had a birthday, yet. He would have made certain to help her celebrate it in style. And now he was forced to recall that he was an utterly disgusting old man. A disgusting lecherous old man… who was rapidly developing a headache.

“I suppose I can meditate in the chapel tonight. Give my regards to the boy.” He began to beat a hasty retreat.   

“Actually,” Regina’s manicured hand landed on his sleeve. “I am glad I ran into you, Father.”

Gold snorted derisively “Did the sun rise in the West today?”

Annoyance flickered across her face before being chased away by a saccharine smile. “Must be that warm welcome that keeps your parish so devout. You’ve got what, a whole dozen people in the pews every Sunday?”

“Not that you’ve ever darkened our doorway to count them, Madame Mayor. Afraid the holy water might burn?” His nerves were thrumming. Trading barbs with the Mayor had its own particular kind of thrill, though not nearly the kind he had expected for the evening.

Her upper lip curled once before she composed herself again and batted her lashes. “No, but I suppose fear is one way to keep the unwashed masses in hand.” Her honeyed tones made his skin crawl.

 “Indeed. I might say the same of your last election.”

She made a sound that was very nearly a laugh. “Alright. Enough. I need Mercy Foundation to provide another store runner for the Pawn shop. It’s in a good location and generates excellent tax revenue. I can’t have it sitting there closed until Pratt is on his feet again. Who knows how long that will take…”

Up until recently, the holding had been overseen by Mr. Jack Pratt, a reedy, unpleasant man, whose corpulent wife ran the local bakery. Mr. Pratt had recently had an unfortunate car accident on his way out of town (rumor had it the Mrs. had sent him packing). As he was likely to be laid up for quite some time, the pawn shop had been closed until further notice.

“Your stunning display of compassion aside, what exactly do you expect me to do about this?” Gold’s curiosity was getting the better of him. He ought to have dismissed the Mayor outright, but she rarely showed such an active interest in anything to do with the Mercy Foundation except his bookkeeping practices. Why was the pawn shop so important to her that she was willing to tip her hand?

Regina crossed her arms. “You own the damn place. Find someone to run it.”

“I own nothing, Ms. Mills. The Mercy Foundation – “

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware of your little loopholes. Just tell me what it will take to get this sorted out.”

Gold’s mind was whirring with the intake of new information. There had to be a way to turn this little inconvenience to his advantage. There was always an angle. Regina watched him impatiently as he flicked away a spot of imaginary lint from his jacket. If nothing else, she deserved a little suffering for disturbing his plans. He only hoped Lacey would not turn skittish after this near miss. If only there was another place they could meet... 

At length, he gave Regina a wry smile. “Alright, I know what can be done. But it must be under my supervision, not yours.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose. But all the books must be on the record. And I have access to everything.”

He inclined his head. “Of course, dear. Now please, let’s be civil and call it a deal, hm?”

Regina’s scowl deepened but she extended a hand for him to shake. He gripped it firmly and they shook.

As he limped steadily away, he finally allowed himself to smile. Well, that was one problem solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are wondering, Henry is not taking a nap. He told his mother that so he could read a certain book....


	15. One's Life does not Consist in the Abundance of his Possessions

Father Gold unlocked the back door of the shop, wrinkling his nose at the musty, stagnant air. He could have sworn it had only been closed a few days. Mr. Pratt had obviously not been much for housekeeping. Gold opened the windows to air out the space and shed some extra light. The walls were lined with cluttered wooden shelves and a few tables were set at haphazard angles. There was a small, uninviting cot tucked into one corner and what looked like an old-fashioned spinning wheel tucked into another. A coat of dust covered nearly everything in sight. The front of the shop was a fare sight better. The displays were artfully done and most of the metals had been rather recently polished. He ran a finger along the glass countertop, deep in contemplation.

There was something about this space that made him feel at ease. Many of the objects provoked an immediate sense of familiarity. He rested his cane atop one counter and braced both hands on it. This felt… right.

He had originally thought of taking over the place as merely a ruse to lure Lacey into the back room with him. Since ordering the locks to be changed, he was in possession of the sole key so they were not likely to be disturbed, there. His priestly duties never kept him very busy and running a shop was not a challenge in a sleepy town like Storybrooke. Perhaps he could even hire on an assistant – in the form of a certain delinquent student? It would keep her out of trouble after school, he would explain to the Mother Superior. Not that he owed that woman any explanation. She could take a flying leap for all he cared.

Yes. Father Gold would take over proprietorship of the local pawn shop. With Lacey French at his side in a completely legitimate business capacity. As he set about taking inventory, a gleeful possessiveness warmed him from the inside out.

The next day, he informed the Mother Superior that someone else would need to take over his teaching duties. He would stay on to deliver sermons on Sundays and take confession (he had too many fond memories of that little booth to leave it behind, now). Otherwise, the people of Storybrooke could look to the nuns or the good book for their spiritual guidance. The Reverend Mother sputtered her displeasure but fell into stunned silence when he stressed that he was taking this on at the Mayor’s request.

“Love thy enemies, Father?” She had asked archly, as he was turning to leave.

He stopped and looked back over one shoulder. “Failing that, keep them close.” The Mother pressed her lips tightly together and Gold continued on his way. It was the closest thing to an honest conversation they had ever had.

He located Lacey at her father’s flower shop. He knew the location well as he collected rent there for the Mercy Foundation. Moe French was a feckless, unreliable tenant but with enough threatening, he scraped together the right amount each month.

Business was slow as always at Game of Thorns. Lacey was behind the counter, chin propped on one hand, blue eyes wide and glazed over. There was an abandoned book near her elbow, but her wistful gaze was locked on the distance. He wondered what handsome prince she was daydreaming about to paint such a winsome tableau. His heart clenched fiercely at the thought and he shook himself. Whatever Lacey’s fantasies might entail, at least he was her reality for now. It was not nearly enough but still more than he could ever have hoped.

He pushed open the glass door of the shop and Lacey jumped.

“Gold! Hi! What are you… I mean…Rent’s not overdue, is it?” Her cheeks tinged pink as the words tumbled out over one another.

He shook his head, charmed to see her so out of her element. “Is your father here, Lacey?”

“No. But… I don’t know when he’ll be back so… we can’t… I mean I could… it’s not like I care about this stupid place anyway.” She bit her lip and grinned “I could meet you tonight, after closing.” Her mouth twisted. “But maybe not at the cabin. What was Das Führer Mills even doing there, anyway?”

“Taking Henry camping apparently.” He replied dryly.

Lacey snorted. “Yeah, she sure was dressed for it. Does the woman even own a pair of blue jeans?”

Gold firmly quashed the desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her thoroughly. It was broad daylight and there were windows everywhere. He calmed himself. Patience was one of the only virtues he could still lay some claim to, after all. “I was worried she had seen you. However did you get away?”

Lacey preened. “Cat-like reflexes.” She giggled and Gold chuckled with her. “Nah, I guess I just got lucky I saw her before she saw me. I don’t think she even knows my name and I doubt she would have put two and two together but I figured why test that theory?”

Reaching surreptitiously across the counter, he skimmed his fingertips over hers. “As wise as you are beautiful.” He remarked.

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Yeah that and a dollar fifty will get me a cuppa at Granny’s. So, um, did you just stop by to check on me?”

Gold withdrew his hand and pulled himself to his full height, hands settled atop his cane. From outside the shop, it would look as though Father Gold was lecturing his most troublesome pupil. He hoped the affection in his eyes would belie the severe posturing. Lacey looked back with casual indifference, clearly aware of the picture they would paint to any passerby.

He cleared his throat. “I came to offer you a job, actually.”

Lacey’s brows shot up. “As cute as I’d look in a wimple, I think I’ll pass…”

“Actually, it’s at the pawn shop on Main. Regina – Ms. Mills – has asked that it be reopened and I have decided to take on the day to day operations. I’ve decided to give up teaching. I could use an… assistant. You’re hardly in school anymore, anyway, and it would certainly pay better than whatever Moe can afford. And I believe there would be other… benefits.” He gave her a salacious smile.

Lacey’s hands came to her hips. “Are you really trying to squirrel me away so you can have your wicked way with me whenever you want, in the back room of a pawn shop owned by the Mayor?”

Gold felt his face grow hot. There had never been a point in the conception of this brilliant plan where he had considered the possibility of her saying no. Stupid, stupid man! Despite the change in their relationship (and what an ambiguous word _that_ was proving to be) Lacey was still Lacey. Who was he to try and lay claim to his wanton little Goddess?

“It’s not owned by the Mayor. It’s owned by the Mercy Foundation.” He clarified gruffly. With a shrug, he turned toward the door, his heart hanging near his knees. “It’s no matter. I can put up a want ad.”

“Gold.”

Her voice stopped him in his tracks and he half-turned to face her. “Yes?”

“I didn’t say no.”

He turned the rest of the way. “You didn’t say yes, either.”

Lacey studied him for several moments, her eyes unreadable and a small smile playing over her lips. “What do you really want, Gold?”

He flushed again, this time for a far more pleasant reason. His voice dropped to a lower register as he glanced down once before recapturing her gaze. “I should think that was fairly obvious.” An echo of something she had said to him once, several days ago. Or was it weeks? Months? At times, it felt as though he had spent years dangling in the limbo of Lacey’s allure. He could not think to regret it for a moment.

It was her turn to flush at the promise in his eyes. She licked her lips and gave a small nod. “Ok. I will go with you.”


	16. Where Your Treasure is, There Will Your Heart Be Also

He thought of calling a cleaning crew in to take care of the back room of the shop. Something stilled his hand as he reached for the phone. His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch at the thought of unknown , perhaps untrustworthy, hands defiling his newly acquired trove of treasures. The Mercy Foundation’s newly acquired trove, that was. He was well aware that he still technically owned nothing.

Until recently, that had bothered him very little. Now, as he cleaned and dusted, he felt increasingly fond of each ridiculous item, even those hideous wooden puppets. Specifically, the spinning wheel seemed to call to him, though he hadn’t the slightest idea how to make use of it. If the town library was still open, he’d have been tempted to take out a book on spinning wheels. As it was, there was a charm to the relic of another time that kept him from offering it as merchandise in the front, despite the fact it seemed to be in working condition. He took extra care to clear the spokes of spider webs and polish the antique wood to a shine.

It was early afternoon when there was a soft knocking at the back door of the shop. He checked behind the curtain and was relieved to see Lacey, impatiently tapping one high heel clad foot. Gold had changed all of the locks so Regina had no chance of simply barging in, but there was no guarantee she wouldn’t swing by.

He opened the door. “Good Afternoon, Miss French. Please come in. We have a great deal of work to do.”

Lacey quirked an eyebrow at his formal tone as she breezed past him. When he shut the door and flipped the top lock, she turned to face him. “Miss French?”

Gold shrugged. “Keeping up appearances. Mayor Mills has eyes everywhere in this town. You and I have never been seen together outside of the church or school. We have to be careful.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Gee, I suppose that means you won’t be taking me out to dinner anytime soon, huh?” She closed the space between them, pressing her body to his. Her hands slid up his chest to link loosely behind his neck. “Wine and dine me in style?”

His arms wrapped eagerly around her, one hand sliding to the curve of her lower back, the other lightly caressing the soft skin at the back of her neck. “Would… would you like that?” He cursed himself silently for sounding so uncertain.

“Dunno. No one ever has.” One of her hands was toying with the ends of his hair, just where it brushed his collar. A tingle of pleasure ran down his spine as she gave it a tug. “I’ve gotten used to lowered expectations.” She gave a crooked grin.

He pulled an exaggeratedly affronted face, attempting to mask the surprising way her careless words could still sting him. “Ouch! So much for my pride, I suppose…”

“Isn’t pride a sin, anyway? I hear it’s a pretty deadly one.” She murmured, leaning in to nibble his ear.

His mouth twisted. “You do think you’re very clever, don’t you?” His hands slid to her arse, squeezing. Her hips rolled against his.

She pulled back and batted her lashes prettily. “Darling, I _know_ I’m clever.” She pulled her shirt off over her head in one swift motion. “Now stop talking and kiss me.”

He complied, swiftly hardening in anticipation. Yet, as they touched and teased one another into a panting delight, he couldn’t shake the mental tableau of the two of them sharing a candlelit dinner for two. Oh, the town would talk, but picturing the gentle intimacy of such a scene made his heart ache. As though Lacey would even want such a thing with him. What a sap he was becoming!

He tried to shut it out, focus solely on Lacey’s nubile form, the swell of her breasts pressed to his chest, her hot breath on his neck.

Even if she showed an interest in such romantic folly, she knew as well as he did that they could never risk it. His position in town was far too important to throw away on a starry-eyed whim. And still…

Then, he felt Lacey’s hot little hand close around his cock and every thought but _now_ and _please_ and _yes_ seemed to escape him. She stroked him leisurely before releasing him. He looked at her curiously.

“Let’s lay down.” She gestured to the cot in the corner.

At Lacey’s urging, Gold lay out on it, stretching his bad leg, his back propped against the wall with several pillows behind it. She worked his trousers and pants down to his ankles, pressing an opened mouthed kiss to his shaft and she moved past it. He hissed his approval. She gave a few more swipes of her tongue, eyes glinting mischeviously up at him. Then, without warning, she hitched up her skirt and straddled him. Apparently, she had forgone underwear today. Her slick core met his sensitive flesh and he bucked involuntarily.

His eyes flew open wide. “Sweetheart?”

Lacey licked her lips. “I…wanted to know what you felt like. Do you mind if we just… play like this for a while?” She shifted her hips experimentally, sliding across his length.

He groaned, his head tipping back to meet the wall. “It may kill me, but no I don’t mind. Find out what you like, Lacey.” As an afterthought, he added dryly. “I’d hate for this to be another experience that fails to meet your expectations.”

She stilled and looked at him sharply. “It was just a joke.”

“Most things are, with you, it seems.” He observed, levity suddenly falling away.

She blinked several times in rapid succession. “Do you really want to have this conversation now? Half naked and humping?”

He gave a wry laugh. “When are we not? I’m not sure I want to have this conversation at all, frankly. It just seems to me that your… sense of humor has once again struck the wrong chord. And I may be nothing more than a convenient diversion for you, but I don't care to be your whipping boy as well.”

Lacey settled heavily on his upper thighs, her arms wrapping protectively across her exposed breasts. She frowned and Gold quashed the desire to claim her pouty lips with his own. “I am trying, you know. But you really shouldn’t take things so seriously. I mean, for someone who dishes it out to the whole town, you sure have a hard time taking it.”

Gold’s face fell into a familiar scowl. “I’m assuming by ‘it’ you are referring to the obvious disdain I hold for most of Storybrooke’s inhabitants. And no, I have no compunction about giving this town as good as I’ve gotten on that front.”

Lacey nodded. “I get that. I do the same thing. I mean, unless….” A look of realization dawned and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God…”

Gold looked up, alarmed. “What?”

Her cerulean eyes searched his face. “You like me, don’t you? Like, really like me. That’s why it suddenly matters when I say the wrong thing. I mean, words can only hurt your feelings if you actually have them.”

He gaped at her, a denial at the ready, but the look she gave him brooked no argument. All the blood that had been pooled in his nether regions minutes ago seemed to rush to his face. He resisted the urge to bury it in his hands. Screwing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath. Then another.

He had been building his defenses for years, a carefully constructed tower of indifference and contempt. Solid, hostile, and impregnable. How the hell had this girl, barely even a woman, managed to tear through them like tissue paper?

Thoroughly shamed, he tried to dislodge her from her position astride him but she held fast. Her hands sought his face, settling on either side of it.

“Gold… look at me?” Her voice was unusually gentle.

He grudgingly opened his eyes. There was a deep furrow in her brow as she studied him, her lips pursed.

“I don’t… I don’t expect anything from you, Lacey.” He sighed. “If you would like to leave…”

She raised an eyebrow, releasing his face to rest her hands against his chest. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”

He shook his head, sadly. “Whatever this is, Lacey… It’s been madness from the start….”

Her hand thumped his chest. “Stop that shit right now. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” She reached between them to fondle him. Embarrassingly, his anatomy twitched back to life almost immediately in her hand. She licked one palm and circled it over the head. He exhaled audibly as her hands worked him back to a full, aching arousal.

“Do you still want me here, Gold?” She asked.

His eyes closed again, involuntarily. “God, yes.” He breathed.

“Good.” She murmured, easing her lips over his. With one hand, she braced herself on his chest, while the other continued to stroke him. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips and he opened to her, willing himself to drown in her. She tasted him thoroughly, moaning as he returned the favor. Eventually, he felt Lacey shift forward in his lap, her hand moving away. He gasped aloud as her dripping center settled once more directly atop his heated flesh. Lacey giggled softly and nipped at his earlobe, both hands now braced on his chest.

“I like the way you feel, Father Gold.” Her husky whisper in his ear had him clawing at the wall beside him as if searching for some tether to his sanity. She began to move, rolling her hips this way and that, her wetness coating them both as she sought out a rhythm she liked. His hands travelled up her taut stomach to pluck at her pert nipples and she hummed her approval. He watched in awe as she worked herself to a peak, skin flushed and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. By the time she tilted forward, head tipped back in a breathless cry, Gold was babbling affectionate nonsense like a fool, his senses flooded with only her.

She slumped to his chest, breathing heavily. He gently pet her until she came down.

At length, she broke the silence with a sigh. “I dunno, Gold… Maybe... maybe I kinda like you too.” She lifted her head, folding both arms under her chin. “I mean, Christ, do you know how many biblical texts I had to read to keep challenging you in class? I never even worked that hard on my actual assignments…”

A bark of laughter escaped him and Lacey grinned sheepishly. There was a warm feeling of contentment in his belly as he realized he had never seen her so unguarded. And that he could easily become as addicted to her smiles as he already was to the sounds of her pleasure.


	17. Rejoices with the Truth

For the rest of the week, Lacey helped him to get the shop ready for opening to the public. She turned out to be far more of an asset than even he could have anticipated. When he complimented her formidable skill with window displays, she looked up from where she was dusting items on the countertop and shrugged.

“Been helping Dad at the shop as long as I can remember. Guess something sunk in.”

He smiled at her. “You’re magnificent.”

“You’re easy to impress.” She rolled her eyes before turning back to the counter, but sounded quite pleased nonetheless.

“Hardly.”

“Don’t know why else you’d keep the likes of me around.” She teased, not looking up from her work.

He rounded on her, plucking the decorative box she was holding from her hand and placing it down. He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her back into his chest. “I can think of some very good reasons.” He rumbled in her ear, enjoying the way her eyes fell closed and she bit her bottom lip. He nosed the shell of her ear then traced it with the tip of his tongue. She sighed, her body arching into his. He lipped at the curve of her neck, sinking his teeth into the spot where it met her shoulder.

She made a noise of frustration and playfully swatted at his shoulder. “You do know that window display doesn’t stop people from seeing in, right? It’s kind of designed for the opposite effect." Taking a deep breath, she pulled away. “And at least one of us still has a reputation worth saving.”

He released her reluctantly, the wheels turning in his head. “What if I didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?” Lacey pried open another wooden box and made a face; it seemed to be filled with wood chips.

“Have a… reputation to uphold.” He ventured hesitantly, nerves suddenly thrumming.

Lacey scowled down at the box full of wood chips, sifting through them carefully. “Don’t be ridiculous, Father. You’re too important to this town. Aha!” Her face lit up as her hand closed around something. She lifted it out and opened her fist to reveal a locket. The delicate filigree chain was snarled into a knot and the locket itself was in need of polish, but was otherwise in good condition. “This will be a nice centerpiece in the jewelry case once I get it untangled.” She beamed at him.

He offered her a faltering smile in return. “Yes… it will look quite nice.”

Lacey cocked her head to the side and made that sound with her tongue against her teeth that he hadn’t heard her make in a while. “C’mon Gold, you love being the big scary face of the Mercy Foundation. I wouldn’t ask you to give it up.” She grinned and licked her lips. “And anyway, I wouldn’t want you to give it up.”

He clenched the hand not holding his cane to stop it from trembling. “And why,” He closed the distance between them, holding himself with far more confidence than he actually felt, “is that?”

Her eyes traveled a path from his groin to his face and back with an intensity he could feel like a physical caress. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but it was belied by the increasingly heavy rise and fall of her chest. When she spoke, her voice was pitched low and went straight to his now-yearning loins. “Maybe I like it that my man has a little bit of clout around here.”

“ _Your_ man?” His voice had also fallen a register, rumbling from his chest.

“Aren’t you?” She asked, still affecting teasing indifference. Yet, there it was, the real question buried deep, where her mask had slipped.

They were so close he could easily tilt down and capture her mouth at any second but he remembered the uncovered window before them. The daylight was slowly fading, burnishing the whole scene a hazy sepia tone. If he squinted, it was merely a dream. But Lacey’s blue eyes kept him locked in the present. They were dark and hungry, pupils blown wide.

He was so fucking gone, already.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her everything. How he had been hers since the first time their eyes met. How she had merely sealed the deal with that kiss to his cheek. How he spent nights awake in his narrow bed heated by memories of her touch, her taste, her laugh.

What he said instead was, “Lock the door.”

Lacey rushed to comply as Gold head to the back room. He had had an idea, days before, but been unsure how Lacey might react. Now seemed as good a time as any to find out.

Lacey appeared in the doorway, pushing the curtain aside. “Father….?”

He shook his head. “Just ‘Gold’ right now.” He gestured to the spinning wheel in the corner. “Sit.”

She edged onto the small bench by the wheel, her eyes wide and searching.

He shed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, never quite meeting her gaze. On a lower shelf, there were several vintage silk ties. Some he had displayed but these were all too ragged or stained for resale. He had kept them, anyway. They seemed as though they might prove useful. He was glad to have been correct.

Without a word, he carried a couple of them to where Lacey sat. He had secured the wheel in place days ago, so that it would not move. He hooked the handle of his cane on one spoke. Reaching down, he grasped one of her slim wrists, massaging his thumb over the pulse and reveling when it jumped slightly. He held her hand up to the spoke of the great wheel and loosely wrapped one tie around both. Only then did he look at her face.

Her mouth was open, panting for breath. At the question in his eyes, she nodded her assent. With a crooked grin, he tightened the tie, wrapping the ends once more to keep her securely fastened. The other wrist received the same treatment.

He bent forward, bringing his face to hers. She licked her lips slowly and gave an experimental tug to each wrist. The wood creaked slightly but did not move. “Don’t pull too hard, now.” He murmured. “This is a sturdy piece, but it has its limits.” He watched her pale throat as she swallowed.

“Yes… Gold.”

“Good girl.”

Tearing himself away with difficulty, he grabbed a pillow from the cot and tossed it at her feet. Taking up his cane once more, he lowered himself to his knees on the pillow. Lacey watched his every movement with avid interest.

Once positioned, he was just slightly below her eye level and he made sure to hold her gaze as his hands came to her button-down shirt. She was often in the shop in parts of her school uniform and he was honestly not sure if it was for the effect it still had on him or because she owned little else. Either way, it was ideal for his current purpose. He untied the shirt where it was knotted under her ribcage and popped the buttons through each hole, one by one. She had forgone a bra, as she often did. He gave a low whistle of appreciation, fitting his fingers between her upper ribs and tracing the undersides of each breast with his thumbs.

Lacey squirmed a little, trying to lean in for more contact. He pulled back, dropping his hands from her and raising an eyebrow in warning. She huffed her frustration but stilled. He rewarded her by sliding his hands back into place and then up, over her breasts. Her nipples perked into his palms and he hummed in satisfaction.

Shifting forward, he placed an open-mouthed kiss to her breast bone. Moving one hand to rest at her hip, he circled one rosy nipple with his tongue, suckling it and nibbling lightly. Lacey made breathy little sounds of encouragement as his lips traveled between breasts, teasing and tasting. His hand at her hip slid the zipper of her skirt downward and slipped in to knead the soft flesh of her lower hip, around to her bottom.

Lacey’s hips rolled toward him. The bench beneath her rocked with the motion and he gripped her waist with both hands to hold her still and shook his head.

“We’ll have none of that.” In his sternest tone, he added. “I did warn you. You’re in a rather… precarious situation, Lacey. And I would be very cross indeed if any harm were to come to this antique artifact.”

He felt the play of her stomach muscles beneath his fingers, tightening and releasing. Her voice was tremulous and thick with desire. “What would you do, then?”

“Hmm…” He forced himself to look thoughtful, his hands moving over her hopelessly askew skirt to rest on her knees. He slowly, very slowly, slid his hands up her thighs, his thumbs drawing lazy half-circles as he went. Her legs fell open even wider under his steady ministrations. When his fingers had reached the juncture of each thigh, he pressed inward, thumbs just skimming her damp knickers. The needy little sound that greeted his questing hands made his cock jump, pressing hard against his zipper.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Now, wouldn’t it be a shame if I just left you here like this? Desperately in need, panting for my touch?”

Lacey gasped indignantly at the suggestion, pulling once more at her bound hands. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands retreated, trailing his nails across the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. He raised one eyebrow at her, again..

She groaned, her head tipping back against the spokes behind her. “Okay, okay. What do you want, Gold?”

He grinned deviously and reached back under the bunched fabric of her skirt to caress her with one finger. She was nearly soaked through the thin cotton. “If I’m your man,” he found her hard little nub through the fabric and rubbed it in measured circles, “what does that make you, Lacey?”

Her hips juddered, her hands turning in their silk restraints to grasp at the spokes of the wheel. Even still, when he caught her eye, she pursed her lips and looked at him defiantly. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” He tweaked one nipple as punishment and she jolted in her seat. Her mouth fell open but she shut it and looked away coyly. He growled his displeasure at the lack of response. “Fine.” He grasped at the flimsy cotton and pulled hard. There was a ripping sound as her knickers came apart at the seams and her eyes went wide. He forced himself to stop, ascertaining whether he had pushed her too far. Sensing the reason behind his hesitation, Lacey wrapped one leg over his shoulder and nodded.

Thus reassured, he threw the other leg over his opposite shoulder and dipped his head forward to kiss her pubis. He grasped her thighs and held them tightly in place, tilting her hips to grant him better access. One slow swipe of the tongue, then swirling it around her clit, and she was already writhing. The hard ache of his cock was tempered by the throbbing pain of his leg. He ignored both, working Lacey up that peak until she was bucking her hips into his face, her juices dripping down his chin.

Suddenly, he pulled away and looked up. “Tell me, Lacey…. Tell me what you are…” He flicked her clit with his tongue and she gasped. “Tell me who you belong to….

“Gold… Please!” She pleaded.

He shook his head, releasing one thigh and wiping his mouth. “Not the answer I’m looking for and you know it” He admonished, tracing her entrance with a fingertip. She moaned and shunted her hips. “What are you, Lacey?” He asked roughly, the twin desires to both get his answer and to make her come harder than she had ever come before internally at war for dominance.

“Yours…” She whimpered.

“Oh God… say it again.” He had half expected never to hear those words. “Please, Lacey, say it again?”

Her eyes flew open and met his, wild with unbridled need yet resolute in her certainty. “I. Am. Yours.” She ground out.

With a desperate cry, he plunged two fingers deep within her, twisting deftly to stroke that spot he knew would make her unravel. She came apart with a scream, her thighs shaking so hard he was afraid the wooden bench would break.


	18. Rightly Handling the Word of Truth

Lacey declaring herself as _his_ while coming around his fingers should have been the most perfect moment of elation in Father Gold’s entire wretched life. Instead, he found himself sitting alone in his shop, two days later, uncomfortable in his own skin, mind pounding with confusion.

After he untied her, Lacey had left, cloaked in a heavy silence. Gold had stroked himself to an unsatisfying climax, the lingering perfume of Lacey’s arousal still fanning the flames.

The next couple of days, Lacey seemed to be avoiding him. She didn’t come to church or the pawn shop. She wasn’t at school or even at her father’s shop. Some terse words and a mild eviction threat later, Gold left the Game of Thorns no more enlightened but a touch more unnerved. Moe French had glared at him in a way that made him wonder how observant the man might actually be, despite appearances.

Gold brushed off the thought. Their secret had to be safe, or else the whole town would be calling for his excommunication. Perhaps Moe was just angry at having lost his underpaid shop assistant.

He longed for those tender stolen moments in the cabin, before either of them had admitted to having...feelings for one another, before he had pushed her to… He shook his head with a sigh, feeling disgusted with every possible direction that train of thought could have taken.

There was a knock at the back door and relief flooded through him as he practically ran – as fast as a man with a shattered ankle could run – to answer it.

Lacey gave him an uncertain look but said nothing as she pushed past him. Her tacit uneasiness was catching and so he also held his tongue, happy enough for now just to have her back. She seated herself at the nearest worktable and picked up the tangled necklace, forgotten days ago, in that heated moment. After fiddling with in for a moment, she exhaled loudly.

He swallowed guiltily and looked away. He heard the chair scrape the floor and the click of her heels as she approached.

“Hey…” She broke the silence at last.

“Hey.” He cleared his throat and licked his suddenly dry lips. “I’m… I didn’t mean to…” He looked up.

The corner of Lacey’s mouth quirked. “I know.” She took one of his hands in both of hers. “It’s… ok.”

“Yeah?” He wished he didn’t sound so very, very desperate.

She squeezed his hand and released it, giving a quick decisive nod. “Yeah.” She inclined her head toward the table. “I’m gonna work on making some of this stuff presentable.”

He nodded eagerly. She could have told him she was going to wear all of it and ask him to address her as his queen and he would have agreed just as keenly. Anything, so long as she wasn’t going to leave, again. Ever.

_It’s forever, Dearie…_

The words echoed in his mind, though he could not remember ever having said such a thing, and it felt like a fist squeezed around his heart. He forced himself to refocus and hobbled to the front of the shop where he had left his own work.

Moments later, Regina stormed through the front door, the tiny bell above it jangling hard. She strode to where he stood behind a glass counter and slapped her hands on it, palm down.

He looked up from the set of silver spoons he had just begun polishing and blinked at her. “Taken by the urge to do some midday shopping, Dear?”

Regina’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You were supposed to hire someone to run the shop, not run it yourself. You already have a vocation, _Father_.”

Gold shrugged, peering at his reflection in the silver. “I’ve always been an excellent multi-tasker. You’re the one who wanted it sorted quickly.”

Regina gesticulated with both hands. “What about the Parish? The high school? They don’t just run themselves, you know!”

“Mother Superior runs the school. Always has. I oversee the boy’s dormitory and give Mass. It’s hardly full time hours. As you so kindly pointed out, the church is not exactly overflowing with acolytes, these days. Besides, the Mercy Foundation doesn’t need to pay me a salary so I was able to hire help.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Just as Gold was about to dismiss the irritating woman completely, Lacey emerged from the backroom holding the tangled necklace aloft.

“Gold, this thing is a fucking mess and I think I’m just making it worse…” Her voice trailed off as she looked up to see the Mayor. Her brow creased. “Mayor Mills. Did you need something?”

For just a moment, Regina’s eyes went wider than he had ever seen them, her face pale. “You hired her??” She sputtered at last.

“Miss French has excellent retail experience.” Gold supplied mildly, somewhat distracted by Regina’s tone. If the Mayor even suspected the true nature of his relationship with the young girl, she would have gathered all the townsfolk with torches and pitchforks by now. Of that, he had no doubt. So, why such a violent reaction to seeing them together?

“Right.” Regina scoffed, seeming to recover from some of her shock. “Or is she just here to rent out the back room by the hour?”

Anger rose in him like the first breaking wave of a typhoon. He gripped the spoon so tightly, he could feel it starting to bend. With immense effort of will, he pushed the blind rage aside and replied as coolly as possible. “May I suggest that you judge not, Ms. Mills. What Miss French does or does not do in her leisure time is of no significance to anyone but herself and her Maker. Even as an elected official, you hardly outrank Our Lord.”

Regina placed her hands on her pants suit covered hips. She muttered something unintelligible before tossing her head. “Well, I don’t want her here. She brings down the value of the whole place. I’m surprised you’d even keep company with her. She’s hardly the Magdalene.”

“ _She_ is still standing right here, Madame Mayor. _She_ has ears that work and can hear you.” Lacey bit out from between gritted teeth.

Regina ignored her, still facing Gold. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And I’d hate to think you’d break one of your holy vows for such a… cheap diversion.”

In his peripheral, Gold could see Lacey’s jaw tighten. From the look on her face, Gold couldn’t tell if she was ready to cry or to rip out the Mayor’s glossy hair. He decided not to find out which. He stepped sideways, landing in front of her, placing himself between the two women and firmly planting his cane. His lips drew back, baring his teeth. “Please see yourself out, Madame Mayor.”

Regina made a frustrated noise. “Fine.” Her hands clenched and unclenched as she head toward the door. Once there, she turned. “But I’ll be checking back here. And if she shows up intoxicated just once or misses a single day of work, she’s out on her barely covered ass.” She opened the door. “And you watch yourself, too, Gold. I certainly will be.” The door slammed shut behind her.

Gold turned to Lacey, who was still glaring in the Mayor’s wake. The girl’s lower lip was trembling, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“You shouldn’t take anything that woman says to heart, love. She’s a harpy, the nastiest kind of –“

“But she’s still right, isn’t she?” Lacey’s eyes snapped to him, the most vivid blue he had ever seen them. “I mean, you and I know not all of my reputation is earned but… she’s not wrong. I cultivated that. I made myself the 'bad girl' everyone was always saying I was, anyway. I was so proud of that for so long… but then you came along and… I don’t know… nothing made sense anymore.”

Instinctively, Gold went to wrap his arms around her but she pushed him away. He stumbled back, just barely catching his balance on the counter’s edge. Seeing him about to fall, Lacey grabbed his arm to steady him but released it immediately when he regained his feet.

“Sorry.” She crossed her arms, looking down at her feet. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

His temper, still tetchy from the run in with the Mayor, flared. “No, you shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry if your carefully crafted reputation as the town slag has undergone an existential crisis in the time you’ve known me – really I am.”

The crestfallen look she gave him was enough to make him immediately regret letting his ire get the better of him. “Lacey…” He started gently, completely unsure of how to continue.

She shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. “It never used to be like this, Gold. I’m not used to… Nothing feels real, anymore! Don’t you feel it? It can’t be just me… I’m not crazy. Not that crazy, anyway.”

His hands fluttered at his sides, yearning to reach out again. Beneath his concern and the dying ember of his anger, there lay something far more insidious. That sense of wrongness, the way that time had ceased to feel linear, Lacey felt it too. Fear traced an icy finger up his spine.

He forced himself to speak. “You’re not crazy, Lacey.”

Lacey gave a bark of laughter that was anything but amused. “How would you even know? You don’t really know me, at all, Father Gold. You know what I do to you… what we do to each other – and I’m not complaining about that, that part has been great. But how the Hell do you think you even know me at all?” She swiped uselessly at the trail of mascara running down one cheek. “Christ, I don’t even know your first name!”

Gold’s mouth fell open, hands reaching blindly toward Lacey. He needed to touch her, hold her, reassure her. If he was being honest (but when was he ever, really?) he needed to know for certain that she was still here and solid and _his_. Consequences be damned!

She backed away, teetering on her high heels. “No! You don’t get to just make it better with sex. That’s not how it works. I don’t think this is how any of this is supposed to work.” She shook her head violently. “I thought I could do this… just keep pretending it was all the same. But for fuck’s sake, even Mayor hoighty-toighty Mills knows I don’t belong here. With you.”

He opened his mouth again to protest but Lacey turned on one heel and fled. Before he could make it halfway across the back room, she had slipped out the back door. Stunned, Gold sunk into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands.


	19. Man, Know Thyself

Once more, Lacey became a ghost in his life. He thought he could smell her perfume in the confessional booth that Sunday, but he reminded himself it was probably just wishful thinking. A few days later was rent day. It had once been his favorite time of month. He didn’t get to keep the money for himself, but the way the townsfolk fell in line, forced to dance to his tune, had always brought a sense of satisfaction. Today, he mostly wanted an excuse to unleash the seething anger that churned in his belly on someone else. Anyone would do.

He plastered on his nastiest sneer and made the rounds after the pawn shop had closed for the day. The last stop would be Granny’s. She was very nearly short the month before and he doubted she had made up the difference by now. She would make a perfect target for his pent up vitriol.

To his surprise, there actually seemed to be a guest checking in.

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

Then it hit him harder than a sledgehammer. He lived an entire life in the blink of an eye. _His father. Neverland. His aunts. Spinning, spinning, so much spinning. His Son, beautiful Baelfire. The Ogre Wars. Fear and cowardice and that ugly look on Milah’s face. Hatred. The Dark Curse. The portal. His Son… oh God, his son…. The Dark Castle. Spinning, spinning, spinning plans and traps and gold. And Deals._

“Emma. What a beautiful name.” He heard himself say, suddenly lost in a fog. He absentmindedly accepted the money from Granny, sparing a look to Ruby ( _Red, the she-wolf_ , his mind supplied) as he left.

The she-wolf was friends with his Lacey ( _Belle_ ).

_Brave, foolhardy Belle, with her trusting azure eyes. Perfect, open-hearted Belle who somehow found it in her to love a Beast._

But Belle had died.

No.

_Threw herself from a tower._

No that wasn’t right.

_Regina, the pawn who would be Queen. The daughter that wasn’t his. Regina with her broken heart and her eyes growing cold as her mother’s. (And had he taught them both to hate him? Or was that just a side effect of his tutelage?)_

Regina had lied to him.

He clenched his fist so tightly the nails bit into his palm. The price of her lies would be rent from her flesh before he was done.

But first, he still needed her. Every story needs a villain and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t ready to reveal himself, just yet. Emma Swan would need his help. The less Regina knew, the better. But if he could rankle and irritate her along the way… Her rage had always been a distraction, even as it had fueled her greatest feats. A distracted, infuriated Regina would bode well for the breaking of the curse.

He glanced around him, seeing Storybrooke through his newly ancient eyes. Not a glimmer of magic in sight. It left him uneasy, the familiar crackle of power gone from his skin (which had also lost the armor of its scales). His ankle twinged as he walked, and he leaned into his cane. He had nearly forgotten how he loathed this fallible human body.

Archie Hopper passed him with a bland greeting and Father Gold/Rumplestiltskin watched him walk past. He half expected the man to start leaping about on spindly cricket legs. How much did any of them remember? Nothing, from what he could tell. The Father Gold part of him recalled a few hazy dreams… memories of another life. But Gold, being a rational man, had dismissed the passing fancies as just that.

His work had been exquisite, Regina’s initially fumbled casting notwithstanding. Everything had gone to plan.

Except that he hadn’t counted on being a priest. That must have been a special little gift from her Royal Evil smugness… A good life, indeed. He made a low sound of disgust.

He also hadn’t counted on his darling Belle still being alive. Much less on them finding one another as they had. Oh, but now there was only Lacey… and Father Gold had been half in love with the tenacious little tart for… How long had their affair been going on, anyway?

Rumplestiltskin stopped cold. Suddenly the look on Regina’s face when she saw Lacey at the pawn shop made all too much sense. His heart beat fiercely within its bony cage. Another variable to be controlled. Belle must be protected, at all costs. But if Father Gold were to be seen protecting her, it could spell disaster for more than just his ecclesiastical title. Regina had promised that she would be watching. If he rejected Lacey now, it might arouse suspicion, but if he continued to keep her close…

A shiver ran through him as he thought of all the things he had done to her… all the things he ( _Father Gold? Or Rumplestiltskin?)_ still wanted to do. And what a strange sensation it was to feel jealousy toward his own past self…

How much of Belle still lingered behind Lacey’s blue eyes? When she woke, would she be disgusted to find her body so used by Father Gold? Lacey had given him ample consent but his last words with Belle had been in anger ( _and cowardice_ ). Could Belle forgive him his trespasses?

In point of fact, his last words with Lacey had been none too friendly. Her fury and confusion had confounded Father Gold, who thought he must have done something to provoke her. Rumplestiltskin understood all too well the reason Lacey could no longer feel at home in her own skin – the curse was weakening. It was nearly imperceptible to most, but the way their twisted courtship had played out must have stirred something. Being faced with all those objects in the pawn shop, tied as they were to so many memories, likely pushed her over the edge.

He realized with a start that he had retraced his steps to the pawn shop and he fumbled with the keys. Father Gold remembered which one unlocked the front door. It was too late to be open, but the last thing he wanted was the chaos and noise of the Mercy School Boys’ Dormitory. Sleeping in the shop would be his best option.

He flicked the light on for just a moment to survey his domain. It was little wonder Regina had not wanted _him_ in the pawn shop, despite her need for it to stay in business. Where else could she store totems in case any of the town’s inhabitants needed a cursed memory boost? Hidden in plain sight. Devious woman. The shop was chock full of the enchanted objects he had collected for years in the Dark Castle.

For the first time all day, Rumplestiltskin grinned. Father Gold had been far more savvy than he thought. Admittedly, taking on the shop had been mostly an excuse to escape his clerical duties and spend more time with Lacey. Now, it would prove a significant strategic advantage. He felt like patting his cursed self on the back.

Eventually, he limped to the back room, exhausted in ways he hadn’t been in centuries. Waking up was possibly the most depleting thing he had ever done. And then he froze in the doorway.

There, right at eye level, was the teacup that Belle had chipped on her first day at his castle. Father Gold had never noticed it in the patchwork of cracked and dented things. Now it was all he could see. He walked toward it, as though in a trance. It felt so small and fragile in his hands, not unlike Lacey herself, when she let him peek behind her façade. In that moment, he missed her with every fiber of his being. Lacey… Belle… whatever her name, her origin, her memories. It didn’t matter as long as she could be in his arms.

He took a deep, shuddering breath as one tear traced a pace down his cheek.

A knocking sound jolted him out of his melancholy contemplation.

“We’re closed.” He snarled toward the door.

“Father?”

At the sound of Lacey’s voice, Rumplestiltskin rushed to the back door, his cane nearly skidding out beneath him. He flicked the lock and flung it open, not caring that he probably looked quite mad in his excitement. “You came back” He observed breathlessly.

Lacey slipped through the door. “I… wasn’t going to.” She fussed with a few objects on the nearest shelf, not meeting his eyes.

“But something changed your mind.” He prompted. Oh yes, he knew these lines. He had replayed them so many times, cursing his own selfish ineptitude. This time, he would get it right.

Lacey nodded, finally looking at him. Her lower lip trembled. “Gold… I… I need to…” She exhaled heavily, took a deep breath and began again. “I need to tell you something. Something important.”

He was at her side in an instant, his hand finding hers. “You can tell me anything. Always, sweetheart.”

Lacey looked at him curiously for a moment, as though sensing the change in him. She seemed to shake it off and intertwined their fingers. “I’m ready now.”

“Ready?” He echoed.

Lacey smiled shyly and nodded. “Take me to bed?”


	20. Love never ends

“Take me to bed?”

Rumplestiltskin choked on his own breath. “What?” he sputtered.

Lacey’s face fell. “Don’t you still want to? Take me to bed? I mean… isn’t that what we’ve been…” Her eyes went wide with horrified uncertainty. “Is it because of what I said? I didn’t mean any of it, I swear! I was angry and confused and… Gold… I don’t care what your first name is. I don’t care about the way things have changed. I just want to be with you. I want you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I left and I needed to come back and tell you... I think… I think I might…”

“Don’t.” He held up a hand, palm out, to halt her. “Please. Don’t say it aloud.” It would be too painful hearing the words he so longed to hear but from the wrong lips. He was a fool to think it didn’t matter. Lacey wasn’t Belle. No matter that they occupied the same body. Belle had been so brave that she kissed a monster. The insecure girl stammering before him was merely a pale imitation. Oh, she was still temptation made flesh, but through Rumplestiltskin’s eyes, Lacey was a soulless copy of his heart’s true desire.

Lacey’s shoulders slumped and she leaned against the ledge behind her. “So… you don’t… feel that way about me. Do you?”

Rumplestiltskin wracked his mind for the safest way to keep her at arm’s length but not drive her away. He could no longer, in good conscience, lay hands on her. Yet to release her to the world without protection… No, there was no way he would allow Regina to take her from him, now that he was so close to having everything… But what does one say? He was not exactly an expert in _not_ breaking hearts. It didn’t help matters that this girl was looking at him with tears welling up in _Belle_ ’s blue eyes, wringing _Belle_ ’s small, delicate hands.

“Is it because of the collar?” She asked softly.

He looked at her, his mouth dropping open. Leave it to his beautiful Belle to find the answer he needed so desperately. He swallowed hard. “Yes.” He rasped, choking back a wave of emotion. “Everything we’ve done… I’ve known it was against my vows – how could I not? But… to truly give you what you want… I’m not really a man, Lacey. I am… a priest and there are some things I still cannot do. There are… lines I cannot cross. I never meant to… lead you astray.” Thinking quickly, he added. “Believe me, Lacey, were the circumstances different, I would be… the luckiest man in all the world.”

Lacey’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Why did you make me say that thing about being yours, then? How can I be yours, if you aren’t allowed to have me? If I’m not allowed to… ?”

Cursing Father Gold for having gotten so greedy, he tried to stall for time. “Sweetheart, I –“

“Jesus. Please don’t call me ‘sweetheart’ when you’re dumping me, Gold,” Lacey interjected, a flash of anger in her damp eyes.

Rumplestiltskin flinched. “You’re right. And I… I shouldn’t have done that – demanding that you call yourself.... It was a selfish, greedy moment. I went too far and I have been praying for forgiveness since it happened.”

“Whose forgiveness? God’s? Mine? Or your own?” She shook her head. “I don’t get it, Gold. One minute you try to stake your claim on me, you tie me up and... and it was so good and it felt so wrong and so right at the same time. For the first time in my life, I thought I was feeling something real. And I knew. No, I **know** that you were right there with me. But today… today it’s like you’re a million miles away…” She covered the space between them and placed one hand on his cheek. “Where did you go?”

Despite his better judgment, Rumplestiltskin let himself lean into her soft palm. _Belle… oh dear gods above… this was still Belle, wasn’t it? Could it be?_ “I’m right here. I’m here, swee – Lacey. But it’s not where I should be. It’s not where _you_ should be –“

Lacey shook her head. “No one decides that but me. I’m here because it’s exactly where I want to be. And I don’t believe you for a second if you say you don’t want me here.” She stepped closer. So close, he could feel her breath on his lips, nearly even with his own as she stood in her heels. “Tell me… Tell me you truly want me to leave and I will walk out that door. You won’t ever have to see me, touch me again. We’ll pass each other in the street and be strangers. But you have to look me in the eye when you tell me.” She tilted her head, her eyes falling closed and brought her mouth to his, just short of touching. He was frozen to the spot helpless with longing. “And you have to kiss my lips one last time and tell me that it means goodbye. Or else I will never believe you.” She brushed her lips lightly against his. “Does this taste like goodbye to you?”

It was all too much, more than even the Dark One could handle. The limited reserves of his self-control shattered apart. He closed the infinitesimal gap between them, crushing her body to his as he ferociously claimed her mouth. She made a hungry, eager sound and rolled her hips into his. Her hands were everywhere, his hair, his back, his arse. She clutched at him with every ounce of strength in her tiny form. He held her fast, as though he would fly off into the atmosphere without her to ground him.

And who knew – perhaps he would.

There was no room for curses or broken hearts between them. It was only here and now in the heated press of aching flesh. Everything that mattered was in her hot wet mouth and the pull of her frantic little hands, the feel of her curving into him, fitting perfectly as she always had. _As Belle was meant to feel –_

He pulled away from her, gasping. He stumbled and caught himself between his cane and the edge of a table. _Stupid stupid man!_ How could he give in like that when he had been so close to keeping her safe – from himself as well as the Evil Queen! “I have to… I can’t…” He looked around hopelessly, his eyes on everything except Lacey. “We can’t.” He muttered helplessly and turned to shuffle away. If he could not drive Lacey from him, he would have to run away. And if there was one thing Rumplestiltskin did well, it was run away.

He had gotten to the doorway when Lacey exclaimed. “Wait!”

He shook his head, reaching for the doorknob.

“Rumplestiltskin. Wait.”

He turned slowly, unable to believe his ears. “Belle?”

She nodded, fresh tears springing to her eyes. “I remembered. I love you.”

Rumplestiltskin was at her side as fast as he could carry himself. “Yes. Yes… and I love you.”

She flung her arms around him and he was kissing her. He was kissing _his_ Belle. The woman he thought was dead and gone. The only woman who saw the man behind the monster’s mask. Who believed in his heart, even when he did not. This wasn’t the frenzied hunger of his kisses with Lacey. This was redemption and home-coming and everything right in a world gone wrong. This was a devil’s chance to taste paradise.

They pulled apart reluctantly, taking long gulps of air. Every part of them that could touch was doing so. She stroked a hand steadily through his hair, her other palm pressed flat against his back. The arm holding his cane was wrapped around her waist and he used the other to touch her hair, her face, stroke the curve of her hip.

“What happened to you, my darling Belle?”

The corners of Belle’s mouth turned down. “It was Regina. She held me captive. I waited for you.” She shook her head, sadly. “You never came.”

_Regina would pay for this. Emma would break the curse and he would be free to break the Evil Queen’s lying neck._

His eyes burned, welling up uncontrollably. “She told me you were dead. I couldn’t find you, not even with magic. I would have… I would have come for you.”

She nodded, her face grave. “I believe you. But you should never have sent me away in the first place. And you’ve tried to do it twice now!”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “The first time, I was a coward. This time… I swear I thought I was doing the right thing. Lacey wanted… Father Gold would have… And I – he – had already taken so much from you – her – that I couldn’t… I didn’t feel right about…”

“Fucking me?” Belle’s eyes were laughing as her mouth curled into a wicked smile.

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flew wide, his body springing to near instant tumescence at the filthy word on his beloved’s tongue. “Belle!”

She shrugged. “Lacey’s still in here, you know. I learned, well, a lot from her.” She suddenly looked perplexed. “So, you weren’t Rumplestiltskin until just today, is that right? Lacey was right about the change she – I – felt in you?”

He nodded again. “I didn’t tell Regina, but I had memorized a curse break before she cast it. I woke up earlier this evening.”

Belle looked into the distance, processing this. “And then I woke because Lacey kissed you… She loved Father Gold, you know. God, she was so confused about that…”

“Imagine how he felt.” Rumplestilstkin smiled. “Poor soul.”

“Mmm. He really was an awful priest.” Belle mused. “Good at a lot of other things, though…” She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

His mouth went dry. “So… so you don’t mind all the things that he… that I did to you?”

She shook her head, nibbling her bottom lip. “You were cursed, Rumple. And so was I. When you realized, you tried to do the right thing. But the curse didn’t _make_ Lacey want Father Gold. She was still me. Parts of me, anyway.” Her hand slid from his hair, down his arm and grasped his hand. Their fingers intertwined immediately. “So, I guess what I’m saying is: Take me to bed, Rumplestiltskin?”

 


	21. Let All That you Do Be Done in Love.

“So, I guess what I’m saying is: Take me to bed, Rumplestiltskin?”

He could barely hear her over the blood pounding in his ears, but there was no mistaking the look on her face. There wasn’t a word for the way his heart flipped over and over as he led her to the cot in the corner.

He swallowed. “It’s not much of a bed…” He met her eyes, willing his mouth not to tremble. “Belle… you deserve so much better…”

“I seem to have very fond memories of this little cot…” She trailed one hand across his chest and he felt his stomach muscles tighten.

“I didn’t mean the bed…” He sighed.

She leaned in and captured his earlobe between her lips, suckling then nipping it with her teeth. “I know what you meant.” She pulled back to hold his gaze. Hers was warm, her eyes dark and half-lidded. “Make love to me, Rumple.”

Well, there were no uncertain terms to be found, here.

With a growl of delight, Rumplestiltskin dropped his cane and grasped her waist with both hands. Their mouths met once more, teasing, tasting, nibbling. Her lips parted with a happy sigh and he caressed her tongue with his. He explored her mouth as though it were the very first time. In a way, it was. As his mouth moved to the pale column of her neck, her hands went to the buttons of his shirt, opening then one by one. She stroked each patch of skin as it was revealed. When it fell open, she pushed it from his shoulders.

He had just a moment to feel self-conscious, despite the fact he knew she had seen him naked before, When she dropped to her knees.

“Belle!” He exclaimed.

“I told you, Rumple, I learned a lot from Lacey.” She pulled his belt open and unzipped his fly. “I learned what you liked.” She palmed him through his underwear and he whimpered, fighting the urge to buck into her hand. “And I learned what I like.” She pulled his underwear down and took him into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the tip as her hand pumped the shaft. Rumplestiltskin was stunned into complete, reverent silence as he watched the love of his life work him with mouth and hand. She caught and held his gaze and he was nearly overwhelmed.

He stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I most definitely will not last if you do that a second longer.”

She withdrew, releasing him with a sloppy wet sound and grinning up at him mischievously. She took the hand he offered and he drew her to her feet. He placed his hands at the hem of her fitted dress and looked to her for reassurance. She nodded eagerly and he yanked the skimpy thing over her head in one smooth motion. As usual, Lacey had not put on any undergarments and so Belle was instantly revealed to him. He drank her in like a man dying of thirst. He gestured for her to sit on the cot. Throwing a pillow to the floor and using the cot for leverage, he lowered himself to his knees, settling between her parted legs. He kissed her lightly before trailing his lips down her neck and across her collarbones. He traced the hollow of her neck with his tongue and tasted a path between her breasts. She hummed her approval, arching her back, presenting him with a breathlessly tantalizing tableau.

He swiped his tongue on the underside of each breast before attending to their stiff, rosy peaks. He circled his tongue around one nipple and then the other as his hands smoothed over her legs, thighs, belly. He touched, kissed, and tasted every part of her that he could reach. He worshipped her in every way he could, murmuring words of love against her soft skin. Belle moaned, her hands trailing over his shoulders, nails digging in slightly when he found a particularly sensitive spot. He encouraged her to lie back on the cot. She smiled shyly but complied, her knees falling wider apart and revealing her to him completely.

He breathed in the musky scent of her arousal, mind reeling that he could ever even endeavor to deserve this sweet bliss. A teasing swipe of the tongue had her gasping and holding him to her. His tongue circled her hooded clit and then delved within. He needed to send her to paradise and never let her come back down. He needed her to forget that the man between her legs was nothing more than a coward with a blackened, worthless heart. Father Gold knew the strokes and rhythms that sent Lacey screaming and writhing. Belle occupied the same body, but she felt different somehow. She responded to a softer touch. The sounds of her pleasure were quieter, breathy sighs that would echo in his dreams. His jaw ached and his leg was in agony and he couldn’t think for a minute of any better place to be in the entire world. Belle came apart twice with gentle coaxing, once more around his fingers.

“Rumple… stop…” Panting, she shifted to prop herself up on her elbows.

He looked up, concerned. “Is something wrong, my love?”

“No… that was… you are…” She took a breath, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “But I want you. All of you, Rumple. This isn’t just about me.”

His erection throbbed as if to remind him it was still there. He gave a sheepish smile. “I just… didn’t want to disappoint you…” He admitted, unable to meet her eyes.

She leaned forward, forcing him to sit back. With him kneeling, they were nearly eye level. She place one hand on either side of his face. “Look at me, Rumple.” She asked gently.

When he did so, she kissed him, tasting herself from his lips. She touched her forehead to his with a sigh.

“I have wanted this for so long, Rumple. Before the curse. Before I was ever Lacey, when I didn’t even have words to put to my desires.”

Rumplestiltskin felt his eyes widen. “You wanted… the beast?”

Belle gave a soft chuckle. “I wanted the man. Still do.” She pulled back enough to capture his gaze, once more. “Does he still want me?”

“More than anything.” He breathed, pressing himself to her and claiming her lips. He wrestled his doubts into submission, their voices still screaming that he would never be worthy of her, had done nothing to earn the love she professed.

With Belle’s help, he climbed onto the narrow cot. She drew up her knees, wrapping her legs around him the instant he settled between them. Propping himself up with one hand, he grasped his cock with the other. He aligned himself with her entrance, watching her carefully for any sign of hesitation. He slid slowly inside. She was so slick and hot, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from losing control. With a herculean effort, he held himself still as she adjusted to the intrusion.

“Alright, love?” He panted

Her eyes were hazy and yearning as she nodded at him to continue. “Oh yes.”

He pulled back and thrust home again, groaning.

“Oh God, yes…” She hissed, her hands grasping at the flesh of his back.

He repeated the motion and Belle bucked against him. It was exquisite torture to keep from rutting like an animal. He kept to a measured pace until she encouraged him to speed up. Thanking any deity who might be listening, he thrust into her faster, harder. She locked her ankles behind his lower back, grinding herself on him as he pounded into her with abandon. He felt her inner muscles fluttering around him. He buried himself in her and she clamped down around him with a sharp cry. He felt his mouth form words but he could not have said what they were. She milked his climax from him and he was suspended in pure ecstasy.

Eventual, he came down enough to shift off of Belle. They curled around one another on the small cot and lingered in a peaceful, sated drowse.

“Does the rest of the town know?” Belle broke the silence.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, brushing her brow with his lips. “No. Just Regina. Now you and me. The rest of the town will have to wait until… Well, perhaps the less you know…”

Belle smacked his arm. “Don’t do that. Don’t keep me in the dark because you think it will protect me.”

He sighed heavily, weighing his options. The less Belle knew, the less threat she was to Regina, even if the Evil Queen did figure out that they were both awake. But keeping Belle completely ignorant would only ignite her insatiable curiosity. Far safer that she learn from him than go looking for details, herself. He settled on an abridged truth. “There is a savior. The daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. She will break the curse.”

“When?”

He shook his head again. “I don’t know. Soon, I hope.”

She blinked up at him “What do we do until then?”

“Well…” A slow smile spread across his face as he ran two fingertips along her spine. She shivered pleasantly against him. He was already beginning to harden again, pressing into the soft flesh of her belly. “I can think of a few things…”

“Why, Father Gold!” She exclaimed playfully.

He growled and nipped at her neck, pulling her body flush to his.

“Rumple…” She sighed, the laughter fading from her voice. “Oh God, I love you…”

“Say it again.” He mouthed her neck and shoulder, feeling her hips press into his.

“I love you, Rumplestiltskin.” She crooned.

“And I love you, my darling Belle.”

***

Later that night, Rumplestiltskin's True Love's cries of pleasure were drowned out by the clock tower chiming midnight.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Indulgence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704705) by [TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet)




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